m 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 


RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


^^•^;S#^  J3#Si;7>''  r 


wn  MFR  r.n\  f  jection 


Walter  Graham, 


STATESMAN. 


AN  AMERICAN  ROMANCE. 


An  American, 

IV/io,  notwithstanding  our  inordinate  desire  for  political 

preferment,  our  insatiable  greed  for  wealth,  and  the 

mighty  upheavings  of  corruption  and  perfidy 

zi'hich  occasionally  astound  us,  still 

believes  in  America. 


FUIvTON  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 

LANCASTER,  PA. 
189I. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  j-ear  1891,  by  the 

Fulton  Publishing  Company. 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


TO   THE 

i'OrXG  PEOPLE  OF  MY  COUNTRY, 

Who  are  anxioics  to  know  something  of  the  true  in-iuardness  of  the 

historic  period  through  which  their  parents  have  lived  ;  and  -who 

are  willing  to  examine,  to  some  extent,  the  details  of  the  great 

political  system  which  makes  up  our  governtnent ; — as  well 

as  to  all  those  who  will  study  facts  only  when  they  are 

labeled  fiction  ^J.his  book  is  respectfully  inscribed  by 

The  Author. 


603301 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2010  witli  funding  from 

University  of  Nortli  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/waltergrahamstatOOwhit 


PREFACE. 


Begin.     Quit  explaining,  and  begin. 


Contents 


I.    Born  of  Good  Blood, i 

II.    First  Political  Impressions, 15 

III.  First  Political  Aspirations, 32 

IV.  Some  Slight  Back-sets, 51 

V.    A  Deep-laid  Scheme 73 

VI.    Ho  !   For  Mansdale 91 

VII.   Shocktown's  Last  R.\lly, 97 

VIII.    The  Gathering  Storm, 113 

IX.   The  Morton  Family, 133 

X.   The  Bursted  Storm, 156 

XL    Mrs.  Graham  Resigned, 171 

XII.   Shocktown  in  Mourning, 188 

XIII.  The  Interregnum 203 

XIV.  Peace  Seasoned  with  a  Little  War,    .    .    .  226 
XV.   Anxiety  Resumes  Her  Reign 237 

XVI.    A  Little  Gloom  at  Mansdale,      253 

XVII.    Some  Old  Acquaintances 278 

XVIII.    Something  Drops 306 

XIX.    Retrospect 330 

XX.    Waiting  for  Clients 356 

XXI.    Practical  vs.  Sentimental  Politics 381 

XXII.   The  Result, 400 

XXIII.  Another  Result 422 

XXIV.  DAKifNEss  and  Light 433 

XXV.   The  First  Reunion, •■....  450 

XXVI.    Gettysburg  or  Cold  Harbor 458 

XXVII.    Surveying  the  Field 470 

XXVIII.    Cultivating  the  Field, 489 

XXIX.   Gathering  the  Crop '. 509 

XXX.   The  Aftermath 534 

XXXI.   The  Second  Reunion, 544 

XXXII.   The  Second  Certified  Check, 567 

XXXIII.    The  Last   Reunion, 579 


WALTER  GRAHAM,  Statesman. 


CHAPTER   I. 

BORIV  OF  GOOD  BLOOD- A  PERFECT  BABY-A  PERFECT 
PATRIOT. 

MOST  people  of  the  Caucasian  race  are  aware  of 
the  fact  that  there  is  a  portion  of  this  earth  called 
America  ;  that  a  certain  portion  of  that  is  called  the 
United  States.  It  is  rather  an  extensive  patch  of  ter- 
ritory, it  is  true,  to  designate  as  the  place  where  any 
person  was  born ;  but  I  am  sure  the  imagination 
can  be  safely  relied  on  to  lead  us  to  the  particular  spot 
where  the  eyes  of  Walter  Graham  first  saw  the  light. 
I  am  further  convirced  that  most  people  who  shall  read 
these  pages  are  aware  of  the  fact  that  the  government 
of  the  United  States  is  a  republic  ;  that  its  rulers  are 
elected  by  the  people  ;  that  it  has  a  written  constitu- 
tion, which  expressl}'  declares  that  "  no  title  of  nobility 
shall  be  granted  by  the  United  States,"  and  that  its 
Congress  shall  pass  "  no  Bill  of  Attainder."  Every 
man  is  a  kind  of  a  king  unto  himself,  and  these  sixty- 
five  millions  of  kings  who  inhabit  the  country  are,  as 
they  fondly  believe,  marking  out  a  new  destiny  for 
man  ;  and,  as  the  monarchies  of  the  Old  World  say, 
experimenting  on  the  principles  of  self-government. 
The  Americans  themselves,  at  the  end  of  one  hun- 
I 


2  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

dred  years,  I  believe,  are  pretty  well  satisfied  with  their 
experiment.  A  few  conscientious  people  among  them 
are  somewhat  alarmed,  however,  at  the  methods  which 
prevail  among  the  average  politicians. 

England,  the  most  liberal  of  all  the  European  mon- 
archies, will  admit  (perhaps  grudgingly,  it  is  true,)  that 
the  growth  and  prosperity  of  her  rebellious  child  has 
been  marvelous,  and  solaces  herself  b}-  reminding  us 
that  whatever  good  has  come  out  of  us  is  due  to  the 
fact  that  we  are  the  child  of  her  loins.  That  the  great 
system  of  jurisprudence,  which  she  had  impressed  upon 
her  colonies  before  she  very  ungraciously  allowed  them 
to  set  up  housekeeping  on  their  own  account,  is  the 
germ  of  all  their  greatness.  That  it  is  her  great  civili- 
zation that  is  rapidly  gathering  in  the  four  corners  of 
the  earth,  and  her  langauge  that  is  promising  fair  to 
become  the  universal  tongue  of  mankind. 

America  certainly  has  been  admonished  all  the  while 
from  two  sources — the  one  within,  the  other  without 
her  borders — to  be  aware  of  the  canker  monster  of 
corruption,  the  onl)^  disease  from  which  republics  die. 
She  has  heard  a  great  deal  about  a  certain  other  great 
empire  that  lived  and  flourished  some  i,8oo  years  ago, 
that  expired  of  this  ailment.  Notwithstanding  all  these 
warnings,  I  believe  there  is  an  uncommon  feeling  of 
security  and  safety  pervading  the  American  mind  in 
this  year  of  her  independence,  the  one  hundred  and  fif- 
teenth. Unless  I  am  greatly  deceived  a  large  portion 
of  these  admonishers  are  .so  many  theorists  and  alarm- 
ists, who  are  frightened  out  of  their  senses  from  a 
chronic  habit  of  looking  on  the  dark  side  of  everything, 
or  from  a  secret  jealous\'  of  republican  institutions 
which    they  endeavor   to   conceal.     To   argue  who  is 


BORN   OF    GOOD    BLOOD.  3 

right  and  who  is  wrong  in  this  controversy,  who  is 
wise  and  who  is  foohsh,  who  is  unduly  alarmed  and 
who  is  sleeping  while  his  house  is  being  consumed  by 
the  flames,  would  be  perfectlj'  futile.  But  that  each  side 
may  judge  for  itself,  I  have  thought  it  better  to  present, 
as  well  as  I  can,  the  typical  American  statesman  from  his 
cradle  up  to  the  time  when  he  comes  within  hailing 
distance  of  the  White  House.  Not  merely  his  ordinary 
political  biography,  as  we  read  it  of  every  statesman  in 
newspapers  and  magazines,  but  to  take  the  world  into  all 
the  little  secrets  and  struggles  with  conscience  which 
lie  in  the  path  of  every  man's  ambition. 

It  is,  therefore,  that  Walter  Graham  shall  have  his 
existence  through  a  period,  the  most  momentous  in 
the  existence  of  the  nation.  For  an  existence  Walter 
Graham  certainly  had.  It  began  on  April  23,  1843. 
If  you  have  any  doubts  about  it  ask  old  Aunt  Nancy 
Stoner,  who  still  lives,  hale  and  hearty  under  her  nine 
and  seventy  years,  in  the  thriving  little  village  of  Shock- 
town.  She  was  there  and  she  knows.  It  was  on  Sun- 
day morning  at  that.  If  you  don't  believe  her,  consult 
the  note  book  of  little  old  Dr.  Cain,  who  was  buried 
last  summer.  If  you  want  further  proof,  turn  your 
hundred  year  almanac  back  to  the  23d  of  April,  1843, 
and  see  if  it  does  not  fall  on  Sunday.  Yes,  and  a 
lovely  Sunday  morning  it  was.  It  was  not  more  than 
a  mile  from  where  the  little  village  of  Shocktown  now 
stands.  And  Shocktowm  you  have  already  properly 
located  in  your  mind  as  in  the  township  of  Adams,  in 

the  county  of  Jefferson,  in  the  State  of  L- ; 

that  is,  some  one  of  the  States  east  of  the  Mississippi 
river ;  perhaps  it  was  north  of  Ma.son  and  Dixon's 
lyine,  or  of  the  Ohio  River.     You   can't   certainly  be 


4  WALTKR   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

wrong  in  saying  it  was  somewhere  within  fifty  or  one 
hundred  miles  of  some  of  the  great  cities  of  the  North 
— Boston,  New  York,  Philadelphia,  Albany,  Buifalo, 
Pittsburg,  Cincinnati,  Chicago,  Cleveland  or  Indianap- 
olis. The  fact  of  the  matter  is,  it  is  not  at  all  material 
for  our  purposes.  Suihce  it  to  say,  it  was  somewhere 
within  the  dimensions,  and  under  all  the  influences  of 
our  fierce  democrac}'. 

The  lovely  April  sun  rose  that  morning  upon  the 
swelling  buds  and  the  first  blades  of  green  grass  that 
were  jumping  up  through  the  winter  covering  in  the 
3'ard  which  surrounded  the  old  farm  house  in  which 
Jacob  Graham  now  lived  as  a  tenant  farmer.  It  was 
within  that  same  house  that  the  nurse  and  little  Dr. 
Cain,  whose  step  was  then  light  and  agile,  laid  at  the 
breast  of  Martha  Graham  her  first-born  child.  "What 
do  you  want,  Mrs.  Graham.''"  asked  the  little  doctor, 
with  a  quick,  kind  voice,  half  professional  and  half 
jocose,  "  a  bo}-  or  a  girl  ?"  With  a  thoughtfulness  of 
expression,  which  he  had  not  often  seen  even  on  a 
mother's  face  (used  as  he  was  to  such  experiences),  he 
heard  the  answer  in  anxiety,  "Oh,  a  perfect  boy  baby." 
He  was  quick  to  answer  cheerfully,"  Well,  that's  what 
you  have  got,  as  perfect  a  young  son  as  ever  sniffed 
the  morning  air,  not  a  mark  or  a  blemish  on  him." 

Mrs.  Graham,  with  a  feeling  of  thankfulness  she 
did  not  endeavor  to  express  further  than  by  the  simple 
utterance,  "Thank  God,"  turned  on  her  pillow,  feeling 
how  greatl}'  she  had  been  blessed  ;  for,  after  her  first 
paramoant  concern,  she  admitted  to  herself,  "how  she 
always,  just  a  little,  preferred  it  might  be  a  boy,  on 
Jacob's  account."  And  how  Jacob,  when  he  was 
informed,  while  waiting  in  the  room  below,  that  he  was 


BORN   OF"   GOOD    BLOOD.  0 

the  father  of  such  a  prominent  aspirant  for  the  highest 
honors  of  his  country,  declared  that  "he  himself  was 
perfectly  content,  but  he  often  just  thought,  on  Mar- 
tha's account,  how  nice  it  would  have  been  for  their 
first  little  one  to  have  been  a  girl." 

What  he  was  saying  he  believed  to  be  the  truth. 
How  near  it  actually  was  we  may  never  know.  One 
thing  however  is  certain,  on  the  whole  he  was  very 
happy  ;  too  happy  to  go  to  church  that  day.  And  he 
and  Martha  had  thoroughly  agreed  for  some  time  on 
one  point,  that  if  it  should  be  a  boy  it's  name  was  to 
be  Walter.  That  was  Mrs.  Graham's  maiden  name. 
Her  father  had  died  rather  suddenly  only  a  short  time 
before  her  marriage  and  left  no  male  issue.  Jacob 
thought,  under  the  circumstances,  that  it  was  only  true 
chivalry  to  his  wife  to  name  him  after  his  late  grand- 
father in  full. 

Mrs.  Graham  did  not  object  to  this  gallantry,  but 
thought  it  would  emphasize  the  idea  almost  more 
distinctly  to  simply  call  him  Walter  Graham.  Jacob, 
upon  reflection,  thought  so  too ;  and,  besides,  he 
rather  liked  the  name;  he  said,  "It  just  made  a  nice 
mouthful."  So  he  was  boldly  recorded  in  the  family 
Bible,  in  the  first  half-hour  of  his  existence,  as  Walter 
Graham. 

This  first  half-hour  of  Walter's  life,  (and  perhaps  the 
most  intensely  exciting  period  of  every  person's  life), 
being  safelj^  over,  he  was  now  ready  to  pass  on  to  his 
destiny.  And  why  should  he  not  pass  on  to  it  with  all 
the  strength  and  vigor  of  mind  and  body,  naturally  to 
be  expected  from  "  as  perfect  a  baby  as  ever  sniffed 
the  morning  air?"  For  to  this  condition  of  good 
health   was   added   the   condition   of    "good   blood." 


6  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

The  fact  of  the  matter  was,  it  was  a  little  "bluer" 
than  some  of  his  more  wealthy  relations  might  have 
thought  it  necessary  to  tell  the  world  ;  that  is,  that  it 
was  a  little  bluer  than  their  own  ;  but  the  fact  was  all 
the  same,  and  was  quite  as  gallant.  To  establish  this 
Walter's  parents  did  not  have  to  trace  their  ancestry, 
as  did  Mark  Twain,  "  back  to  the  tomb  of  Adam." 

I>ut  his  father,  Jacob  Graham,  knew  too  well  that 
his  great-grandfather  had  been  among  the  early  Dutch 
.settlers,  who  had  preferred  freedom  in  the  wilderness 
of  a  new  world  rather  than  abide  the  restrictions  of 
the  old.  That  he  had  helped  to  lay  the  foundation  of 
the  great  metropolis  of  the  great  Empire  State.  He 
knew  pretty  fully  the  legendary  history  of  his  family 
that  gave  him  to  understand  that  his  still  remoter 
ancestors  of  the  sixteenth  century  had  suffered  the 
untold  miseries  of  the  Hollander  at  the  hands  of  the 
Spanish  Inquisition.  He  had  read  the  history  of  the 
United  Netherlands  and  the  Dutch  Republic,  with  an 
over-weening  admiration  of  the  part  he  felt  some  of 
his  forefathers  must  have  borne  in  the  great  struggle. 
To  him  the  words  Saxon  and  Norman  sank  into  insig- 
nificance when  compared  to  the  words  Dutch  and 
Huguenot.  He  did  not  stop  to  scrutinize  very  care- 
fully how  nearly  these  several  little  streams  flowed 
into  one,  sufficient  to  him  that  the  latter  two  he  recog- 
nized as  the  true  blood  that  really  brought  the  all-in- 
spiring germ  of  liberty  to  America.  There  had  hung 
in  his  father's  house,  as  long  as  he  could  remember, 
and  there  was  now  hanging  in  his  home,  and  should 
hang  as  long  as  his  son  could  remember,  a  portrait  of 
William  the  Silent  side  by  side  with  Martin  L,uther's. 
On  the  stand  underneath  the  two  lay  a  little  volume, 


BORN   OF    GOOD    BLOOD.  i 

(the  family  biography),  which  told  how  his  grand- 
father had  marched  barefoot  over  frozen  ground  with 
Washington  at  Valley  Forge,  and  had  fallen  from  a 
sabre  wound  at  Brandywine,  and  all  this  that  these 
States  might  be  founded  on  the  rocks  of  freedom. 
Yes,  that  this  government  might  be  an  exemplification 
of  pure  democrac3\  For  in  politics  Jacob  Graham  was 
a  Democrat.  The  word  had  a  high-sounding  signifi- 
cance to  him.  Thomas  Jefferson,  his  ideal  statesman, 
the  giant  in  intellectual  power  among  all  his  contempo- 
raries, the  very  quintessence  and  exemplification  of 
the  Democratic  idea,  of  the  capacity  of  man  for  self- 
government,  had  been  the  founder  of  that  party  ;  and 
wh)'  should  not  he  and  his  fathers  before  him  naturally 
have  belonged  to  it  ?  Could  it  be  possible  that  the 
great  author  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  had 
been  wrong  in  his  judgment?  To  doubt  would  be 
blasphemy.  True,  Jefferson  had  consented  to  own  a 
few  slaves,  but  that  was  only  one  of  the  accidental 
afiairs  pertaining  to  the  frailt}^  of  man.  Besides,  had 
he  not  told  his  countrymen  in  pathetic  words  that  he 
"  trembled  for  his  country  when  he  reflected  that  God 
was  just ;  and  that  his  mercy  would  not  last  for  ever." 
Had  he  not  told  them  in  words  of  prophec}'  ' '  that 
nothing  was  more  clearly  written  in  the  book  of  fate 
than  that  these  people  were  to  be  free?"  Brimful  of 
these  ideas,  and  under  these  influences,  was  it  any 
wonder  that  Walter  Graham  should  be  born  a  perfect 
patriot,  as  well  as  a  perfect  baby  ? 

But  this  was  only  half  the  story.  In  fact,  the  larger 
of  the  influences  surrounding  Walter  Graham  has  yet 
to  be  told,  if  what  we  have  frequently  been  taught  is 
true,  —  that   mothers    make    more   surely    than   their 


o  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATE.SMAN. 

fathers  the  first  and  last  impressions  on  their  sons. 
Mrs.  Graham  certainlj^  did  hold  up  her  side  of  the 
family  pedigree  and  influence  exceedingly  well.  She 
was  of  Scotch-Irish  extraction  on  her  father's  side. 
He  had  frequently  told  her  how  the  noble  heroes  of 
Londonderry  had  withstood  famine  and  privation  for 
the  sake  of  religious  liberty.  How  they  had  fought  at 
the  battle  of  Boyne,  and  how  they  had  driven  old  King 
Jim  II  from  the  throne  of  P^ngland.  It  was  astonish- 
ing indeed,  .she  said,  when  you  examined  it,  how  many 
of  our  Presidents  had  come  from  that  Scotch- Irish 
blood.  What  a  wondeful  man  John  Calvin  was,  her 
father  had  often  told  her.  True,  he  never  told  her  very 
mucli  about  his  having  put  Servetus  to  death  on 
account  of  his  opinions  ;  but  that,  too,  was  only  one  of 
the  accidental  affairs  pertaining  to  the  frailty  of  man. 
And,  besides,  had  not  his  followers  suffered  enough  to 
atone  for  that  in  the  days  when  Jeffries  had  declared 
from  the  bench  "that  he  could  smell  a  Presbyterian 
forty  miles?"  Mrs.  Graham's  maternal  ancestry  had 
been  pure  Anglo-Saxon,  pure  Pilgrim,  pure  New  Eng- 
lander,  intermarried  only  one  generation  back  it  was 
true,  to  a  half-bred  Pennsylvania  Quaker,  a  people  of 
whom  her  mother  had  frequently  .said  it,  had  put  as 
much  good  leaven  into  the  conglomerate  American  loaf 
as  any  that  was  in  it.  In  fact,  .she  remembered  distinctly 
her  maternal  grandmother  telling  her  once,  when  .she 
was  there  on  a  visit,  as  she  rode  home  with  her  from 
quarterl}'  meeting,  "'  the  true  spirit  of  religious  liberty 
did  not  come  to  this  country  with  the  Pilgrims  in  the 
Mayflower,  but  with  William  Penn  on  the  ship  Wel- 
come."    A  statement  in  which,  if  the  truth  must  be 


BORN   OF   GOOD    BLOOD.  9 

told,  her  maternal   grandmother  was   not  so  very  far 
wrong. 

And  yet,  with  all  these  advantages  of  hereditary 
descent  and  soul-inspiring  influences  which  surrounded 
Walter  Graham,  I  cannot  say,  w'ith  a  strict  regard  for 
truth,  that  up  to  the  age  of  eight  he  never  did  a 
naught}'  thing.  I  believe,  however,  with  the  same 
high  regard  for  the  truth,  that  he  never  told  his  parents 
a  deliberate  lie.  In  saying  this  it  must  not  be  under- 
stood that  I  am  claiming  the  same  high  merit  for  him 
that  belonged  to  the  Father  of  his  Country,  foi  the 
simple  reason  that  Walter  had  never  cut  down  his 
father's  cherry  tree.  Therefore,  I  cannot  predict  what 
he  might  have  done  under  the  circumstances.  I  only 
can  tell  what  he  did  do.  That  at  the  age  of  seven  he 
had  run  off  one  day  at  noon  with  the  other  boj^s  at  school, 
against  his  parents'  orders,  to  skate  on  the  pond  which 
they  did  not  consider  safe.  That  he  broke  in,  fortu- 
nately at  a  shallow  place,  where  the  water  only  came 
about  half-way  up  to  his  waist ;  and  when  safely  out, 
although  alarmed  at  the  thought  of  what  had  hap- 
pened, he  reasoned  naturall}^  as  a  great  manj^  older 
persons  do  on  such  occasions,  that  it  was  not  necessary 
to  tell  a  lie,  because  it  was  not  necessary^  to  tell  the 
truth.  In  all  human  probability  his  parents  would 
never  hear  tell  of  it  ;  especiall}-  it  he  cautioned  the 
other  boys  not  to  mention  it.  And  wh}-  should  he  him- 
self be  the  first  to  break  the  intelligence  to  them  ?  Thus 
satisfied  with  his  conclusions  he  proceeded  deliberately 
to  a  neighboring  barn,  took  off  his  boots  and  stockings, 
his  pants  and  drawers,  wrung  the  water  out  of  the  dry 
goods,  poured  the  water  out  of  his  boots,  washed  his 
feet  at  the  watering  trough,  replaced  his  clothing,  all 


10  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN, 

but  the  stockings,  which  would  not  admit  of  the  boots 
going  on  in  their  present  condition,  put  his  boots  on 
his  stockingless  feet,  put  his  stockings  in  his  coat  pock- 
ets, and  marched  back  in  time  for  books  to  the  old  stone 
school-house.  All  this,  he  labored  hard  all  afternoon 
to  persuade  himself,  was  no  wicked  deception ;  and 
some  day  later,  or  when  the  ice  got  a  little  thicker,  his 
parents  would  certainly  not  object  to  his  going  with 
the  other  boys  to  skate. 

All  this  might  have  worked  ver}^  well  if  it  had  not 
happened,  just  as  the  contrary  elements  alwa3's  will 
have  it  happen,  that  his  mother  had  to  say  that  eve- 
ning, as  they  sat  by  the  fireside,  "  Walter,  you  know 
this  is  the  evening  you  are  to  grease  your  boots  ;  your 
father  says  that  is  always  to  be  done  every  week.  You 
had  better  get  the  oil-can  here  by  the  kitchen  fire-place 
and  commence  before  it  gets  too  late." 

Walter  felt  a  sudden  feeling  of  uneasiness,  which  he 
would  gladly  have  greased  boots  all  night  to  have  been 
relieved  of,  as  he  answered,  "Oh,  mother,  I  can  easy 
get  up  in  the  morning  and  do  it  before  breakfast  ;  I  am 
kind  of  tired  to-night."  "No,  no,"  replied  the  mother, 
"  I  don't  want  any  squatting  around  the  fire  here  in 
the  morning  while  I  get  breakfast ;  besides,  don't  we 
all  know  what  a  job  it  is  to  get  you  up  in  the  morning 
in  time  to  eat  breakfast,  let  alone  to  do  any  work  be- 
fore it." 

Seized  with  a  painful  consciousness  that  a  great  crisis 
was  approaching,  Walter  turned  around,  without  fur- 
ther remonstrance,  to  a  chair  to  draw  off  his  boots. 
This  he  did  with  considerable  more  exertion  than  usual, 
to  which  the  conspiring  elements  attracted  his  mother's 
attention.     As  he  tugged  away  for  a  considerable  time. 


BORN   OF   GOOD    BI,OOD.  11 

with  the  toe  of  one  boot  under  the  rung  of  the  chair 
and  the  toe  of  the  other  boot  at  its  heel  endeavoring  to 
extricate  his  foot  therefrom,  his  mother  remarked, 
"  What's  the  matter  with  your  boots  to-night  that  they 
are  so  hard  to  come  off?  I  thought  we  got  those  boots 
full}^  large  enough  for  j'OU,  Walter."  Walter,  w'ith 
another  spasmodic  effort,  exhumed  the  bare  foot  from 
the  boot,  which  new^  circumstance  caught  his  mother's 
e5'e  before  he  could  sufficiently  collect  himself  to  make 
any  reply,  and  she  proceeded  in  the  same  breath, 
"  Where  are  your  stockings  ;  are  you  not  wearing  any 
stockings,  Walter?" 

Seeing  that  all  further  dissembling  was  useless,  and 
feeling  the  heavy  knocks  of  something  inside  his  very 
ribs,  which  said  "  it  is  time  to  unload  or  go  down  to  a 
liar's  infamy,"  he  grew  almost  instantly  as  strong  and 
decided  in  his  course  as  he  had  been  the  moment  before 
weak  and  irresolute.  ' '  Mother, ' '  he  said,  wath  shame 
and  in  tears,  ' '  My  stockings  are  in  my  pockets  ;  they 
are  all  wet.  I  broke  through  the  ice  to-day,  up  to 
here,"  indicating  the  place  with  his  fingers.  "  I  went 
down  to  the  dam  against  3'our  orders  and  papa's. 
Jack  Matson  and  all  the  other  boys  persuaded  me  ; 
they  all  said  what  a  nice  time  we  would  have,  and 
I  did  not  like  to  stay  back  with  nothing  but  the  little 
bits  of  girls  ;  but  I  know  I  did  wrong  ;  I  know  that  is 
no  excuse." 

"  Walter  Graham,"  said  his  mother,  looking  at  him 
with  a  tender  steadfastness  which  he  found  he  with- 
stood better  than  he  expected,  "What  do  you  really 
think  I  ought  to  do  with  j'ou  ?"  Walter,  bursting  out 
into  sobs,  rushed  into  his  mother's  arms,  clasped  her 
fondl}'  around  the  neck,  exclaimed,  ''  Whip  me,  mother; 


12  WALTER    GRAHAI^r,    STATESMAN. 

whip  me  ;  that  is  what  I  deserve  ;  just  so  you  dou't 
do  it  before  the  other  children."  Mrs.  Graham,  sink- 
ing down  on  the  chair  that  stood  by  her,  bent  her 
seven-year  old  son  across  her  knee  and  gave  him  two 
spanks.  Her  hand  was  raised  to  strike  the  third,  but  it 
fell,  as  if  palsied,  from  her  shoulder  and  came  down 
instead  in  the  form  of  a  gentle  caress  upon  his  head. 
"  Walter,"  said  his  mother,  "  are  you  really  sorry  that 
you  have  deceived  your  father  and  mother  in  this 
way  ?"  "  Yes,  I  am,"  exclaimed  Walter  ;  "  you  have 
not  whipped  me  half  as  much  as  I  deserve,  mother." 
"Yes,  I  think  I  have,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  raising  her 
bo}'  to  his  feet  and  looking  at  him  with  that  Christ-like 
countenance  of  forgiveness  which  onl}'  the  pure  mother 
can  have  on  such  occasions.  "  I  feel,  Walter,  you  are 
fully  conscious  of  the  offense  you  have  committed 
against  your  parents,  and  trust  you  will  fully  appreci- 
ate what  it  is  to  have  some  force  of  character  of  your 
own  ;  as  you  go  through  life  you  must  learn  to  utter 
that  little  word,  no.  I  have  sometimes  thought,  indeed, 
Walter,  that  your  trusting  nature  might  suffer  more 
from  that  than  anything  else  as  you  go  through  life. 
And  yet,  I  cannot  say  that  I  would  change  it  if  I  could. 
It  may  be  the  source  of  a  great  deal  of  comfort  to  you 
many  times,  no  doubt,  if  you  only  learn  how  to  prop- 
erly guard  against  the  guile  of  this  world.  I  can  only 
say  at  present  you  now  have  ni}-  full  forgiveness,  and 
I  know  that  you  will  have  father's  after  I  explain  it  to 
him  when  he  comes  home  from  the  store." 

Walter  kissed  his  mother  with  an  admiration  and 
affection  for  her  that  it  is  doubtful  if  he  ever  felt  before. 
It  is  useless  to  tell  how  much  happier  he  felt  than  he 
had   felt  all  afternoon  and  evening   before.     How  he 


BORN   OF   GOOD    BLOOD.  13 

greased  his  boots  cheerfulh*  and  kissed  his  mother 
good-night  so  happily,  and  lay  down  on  his  pillow 
so  truly  pra5'^erful ;  more  so,  perhaps,  than  he  had 
ever  done  since  his  mother  had  taught  him  to  lisp  the 
words,  ' '  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep. " '  How  his 
mother  came  to  kiss  him  a  final  good-night  as  she 
tucked  his  little  sisters  and  baby  brother  away  in  their 
trundle  beds  in  the  adjoining  room.  How  she  even 
told  him  that  it  was  not  the  intention  of  his  parents  to 
deprive  him  of  the  pleasure  of  skating  all  winter,  or  of 
any  other  proper  sport  the  other  boys  engaged  in.  It 
was  only  because  at  present  they  thought  the  ice  was 
not  strong  enough,  and  how^  she  hoped  he  would  take 
no  cold  from  his  ducking.  As  for  Mrs.  Graham's  anx- 
ieties on  the  score  of  health,  we  maj'  dismiss  them  by 
saying  they  were  groundless.  The  wholesome  blood 
that  was  coursing  through  the  veins  of  "as  perfect  a 
baby  as  ever  sniffed  the  morning  air, ' '  made  light  sport 
of  the  doctor's  rules,  for  he  arose  the  next  morning  in 
good  spirits  and  certainly  never  in  better  health.  But 
he  had  meditated  long  and  deep  about  how  an  honest 
statement  was  better  than  a  lie  ;  and  why  it  was  he  had 
not  the  courage  to  act  upon  the  example  of  the  very 
good  boy  George  Washington,  of  whom  his  school 
reader  had  told  so  much  and  who  afterwards  became 
so  famous.  He  did  not  stop  to  inquire  whether  the 
illustrious  George  had  really  been  anj^  better  than  him- 
self, and  if  the  world-renowned  truthful  answer  had 
come  from  those  young  lips  like  his  own,  simply  be- 
cause he  was  cornered  and  that  to  evade  was  useless. 
Whether  the  question  had  not  been  put  without  an 
alternative,  simply,  "George  did  you  cut  that  tree 
down?"  and  that  little  monosylable  j'^.y  or  no  alone 


14  WAI^TER    GRAHAM,    STATEvSMAN. 

could  answer  the  question.  No,  it  was  not  Walter 
Graham  that  went  thus  far  into  the  mysteries  of  brain 
and  consciousness.  No,  that  skepticism  is  left  for  me 
of  older  years  ;  and  while  we  may  sometimes  doubt  the 
literal  translations  of  many  a  story  that  portrays  our 
great  men  as  being  entirely  different  from  ordinary 
beings,  I  doubt  if  it  would  be  wise,  even  if  w^e  could, 
to  destroy  the  truth,  or  mar  the  grandeur  that  sur- 
rounds that  little  hatchet,  when  I  think  of  the  solace 
and  comfort  it  was  to  Walter  Graham  that  night,  to 
whose  trusting  nature  there  were  no  doubts. 


'■WW 


CHAPTER    II. 

RECEIl'F.S  HfS  FIRST  POLITICAL  IMPRESSIONS. 

THE  spring  of  1851  brought  around  with  it  the 
completion  of  Walter's  eighth  year  and  some 
change  in  his  condition  and  that  of  his  parents. 

Jacob  Graham,  after  some  years  of  hard  work  and 
economy,  not  to  say  good  management,  had  taken  the 
thousand  dollars  he  had  laid  by  and  bought  a  farm  of 
his  own.  It  was  about  three-fourths  of  a  mile  nearer 
Shocktown,  which  still  consisted  of  seven  dwelling 
houses,  a  store,  a  blacksmith  shop,  wheelwright  shop, 
a  hotel,  and  one  other  small  building,  which  was  the 
seat  of  three  distinct  industries,  to  wit  :  a  shoemaker 
shop,  a  candy  store,  and  an  oyster  saloon,  all  under 
the  same  roof. 

Notwithstanding  the  rather  stolid  condition  of  this 
hamlet  for  the  last  dozen  years,  Jacob  Graham  and  the 
friends  who  had  urged  him  into  making  the  venture  of 
investing  in  this  old  farm  of  one  hundred  and  sixty 
acres,  with  its  old  tumble-down  buildings,  thought 
their  pensive  vision  saw  a  very  different  village,  not  to 
say  town,  in  the  near  future.  And  who  shall  say  that 
the  level-headed  Jacob  Graham  based  those  hopes  on  a 
mere  phantom  ?  For  the  whistle  of  the  locomotive 
was  heard  within  the  precincts  of  Shocktown,  The 
power  and  potency  of  that  agent  of  civilization  and 
materialization  had  never  been  doubted  by  the  saga- 
cious, since  the  day  the  dreams  of  a  certain  other  very 
enthusiastic  American  boy  had  been  so  far  realized  as 


16  WALTKR   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

to  make  his  somewhat  crude  craft  move  slowly  up  the 
Hudsou.  Walter  Graham's  parents  had  had  the 
ocular  demonstration  of  what  new  life  and  energy  it 
had  put  into  the  thriving  little  borough  of  Mansdale, 
about  five  miles  to  the  northeast,  from  which  point 
this  new  road  was  to  be  a  branch  from  the  trunk  line. 
It  was  to  go  through  a  rich  and  fertile  county  one 
hundred   miles  to   the    south-southwest    to  the  very 

considerable  city  of    ,  which  had  a  population 

of  a  hundred  thousand  people.  It  might  well  lay 
claim  to  being  some  day  recognized  as  the  trunk  itself 
and  the  old  road  the  branch. 

Why  then  should  the}^  doubt  the  new  activity  which 
the  vibrations  of  that  steam  valve  would  give  to  Shock- 
town  ?  Had  not  Joseph  Bernard,  a  very  shrewd  man, 
already  bought  three  acres  of  ground  right  adjoining 
the  lower  end  of  his  new  farm,  where  he  intended  to 
have  a  station  erected,  a  warehouse,  a  coal  yard,  a 
lumber  yard,  etc.  ?  True,  it  was  only  the  construction 
train  as  yet,  that  aroused  these  sleepy  villagers  from 
their  slumbers,  but  still  it  was  a  locomotive.  It  was 
not  verj'  consequential-looking,  to  be  sure,  when  com- 
pared with  one  of  our  great  modern  modocs  with 
its  eight  drivers  rolling  at  the  rate  of  ten  miles  an 
hour  up  the  side  of  the  Alleghenies  with  measured 
puff  and  pulse  beats,  pulling  its  fifty  loaded  cars  of 
freight,  looking  more  like  a  huge  living  object  than 
the  work  of  man.  But  being  reminded  b}-  reason  and 
science  that  this  majestic  power  really  was  conceived 
and  set  in  motion  by  the  brain  of  man,  the  only  being 
fashioned  in  the  image  of  his  Creator,  I  am  rather 
disposed,  even  now,  to  stand  and  uncover  as  it  passes 


FIRST    POLITICAL   IMPRESSIONS.  17 

by.  I,  at  least,  have  a  high  respect  for  the  species  of 
the  animal  kingdom  to  which  I  belong. 

The  same  feeling  of  admiration  and  awe  which 
seizes  one  of  older  3^ears  in  contemplating  the  present 
condition  of  our  great  trunk  railroads,  overcame  Wal- 
ter Graham  and  all  the  other  children  who  attended 
the  Shocktown  school,  as  they  watched  that  primitive 
little  engine,  with  its  three  little  flat  cars,  pulling  and 
puffing,  and  sweltering  and  tugging,  and  slipping  and 
stalling,  as  it  plied  back  and  forth  past  their  school- 
house  door  on  its  mission  of  construction.  One  other 
fact  about  this  wonderful  piece  of  machinery  that  im- 
pressed Walter's  mind  considerably  was,  that  its  name 
was  "Andrew  Jackson,"  and  he  sometimes  heard  men 
and  the  older  boys  call  it  '"Old  Hickor}-." 

Accordingly,  it  came  to  pass  that  one  evening  after 
he  returned  from  school  he  inquired  of  his  parents  why 
this  was.  His  father  explained  to  him  that  Andrew 
Jackson  had  been  President  of  the  United  States,  that 
he  had  been  a  great  general  in  a  war  with  old  England, 
that  he  was  a  man  of  great  firmness,  and  courage,  and 
will  ;  and  that  the  people  called  him  '  'Old  Hickory  ' ' 
because  he  was  so  tough,  and  the  term  described  him 
so  well. 

Walter  had  some  conception  of  what  President  of 
the  United  States  meant  ;  but  I  cannot  say  that  he 
comprehended  thoroughly  all  that  was  implied  in  the 
answer  to  his  question.  But,  nevertheless,  he  had 
received  as  a  total  from  the  explanation  a  vague  im- 
pression that  his  father  had  a  very  exalted  opinion  of 
Andrew  Jackson,  and  that  he  belonged  to  the  same 
school  of  political  faith  that  he  did  ;  and  somehow  he 


18  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

was  not  quite  sure  that  his  mother  held  him  in  the 
same  high  estimation. 

As  the  month  of  June  drew  to  a  close,  the  spring  term 
at  the  old  school-house  closed  too.  Walter,  though 
having  to  work  pretty  hard  for  a  boy  of  his  years,  dur- 
ing the  summer  months,  among  the  stumps  and  stones, 
the  colts  and  cows,  the  corn  and  cabbage,  enjoyed  him- 
self remarkably  well  at  his  new  home.  There  seemed 
to  be  more  life  going  on,  he  was  closer  to  the  village, 
had  more  associates  of  his  own  years,  and  he  looked 
forward  with  eagerness  to  the  time  when  the  winter 
term  would  open. 

In  the  fullness  of  time  the  winter  term  opened,  and 
Walter  opened  with  it  the  first  pages  of  the  elementary 
geograph}^  which  he  studied  that  winter.  As  he 
looked  at  the  bright  colors  on  the  map,  which  por- 
trayed to  his  mind  the  different  States  of  the  Union,  he 
was  greatly  interested  and  would  pick  out  the  one  in 
which  he  lived,  admire  it  intensely,  and  learned  its 
capital  first.  Before  spring  he  had  learned  the  names 
of  them  all. 

Mr.  Flora,  the  teacher,  was  not  the  proverbial  old 
teacher  of  such  brutal  instincts  so  frequently  described 
to  us,  but  on  the  other  hand  was  a  man  of  natural  kind- 
ness of  heart.  Not  so  wonderfully  learned,  it  is  true, 
but  a  man  of  considerable  public  spirit  and  somewhat 
inclined  to  politics.  He  therefore  uncon.sciously  im- 
pressed upon  his  primary  geopraphy  class  the  import- 
ance of  the  country  in  which  we  live,  and  of  knowing 
something  about  the  elementary  principles  of  our  gov- 
ernment. They  were  told  that  the  present  President  of 
the  United  States  was  Millard  Fillmore,  of  New  York, 
and  that  next  fall  we  would  elect  a  new  president. 


FIRST  POLITICAL   IMPRESSIONS.  19 

Walter  as  he  listened  to  this  startling  intelligence 
that  winter  day  of  1852,  inquired  of  the  teacher  who 
was  going  to  be  the  next  president. 

Mr.  Flora  replied  he  could  not  answer  that. 

Walter,  still  absorbed  with  the  great  thought  in  his 
mind  said,  "Can  anybody  be  President,  just  any 
common  man  that  wants  to  be  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Flora,"  that  is,  any  common 
citizen  can  be  President  if  the  people  elect  him,  and 
he  is  smart  enough  to  get  there. ' '  Further  inquiries 
upon  the  subject  were  postponed,  b}^  Walter  hearing 
one  of  the  large  boys  behind  him  say  in  a  loud  whisper: 
"  lyisten  to  Walt.  Graham  ;  I  guess  he  thinks  he  is 
going  to  be  President  some  day."  Born  as  Walter 
Graham  was,  of  such  patriotic  and  aspiring  blood, 
as  has  been  already  described,  I  can  tiuly  say  that 
on  this  occasion  he  was  not  thinking  of  any  exalted 
position  for  himself.  But  he  was  wondering  what 
kind  of  a  man  it  required  to  make  a  President  of  the 
United  States  ;  whether  they  were  only  ordinar}'  beings 
like  the  rest  of  us,  or  whether  they  did  possess  some 
superhuman  power.  Kings  and  queens  he  had  heard 
of,  but  to  his  mind  they  filled  a  very  small  space  in  this 
terrestrial  sphere  compared  with  a  President  of  the 
United  States.  He  was  not  one  of  those  Americans 
who  are  sometimes  accused  of  underrating  the  import- 
ance of  their  own  country. 

Naturally,  as  the  summer  of  1852  came  on,  Walter 
watched  rather  closely  the  process  of  electing  a  presi- 
dent of  the  United  States.  He  came  to  understand  in 
due  time  that  there  were  two  men  to  be  hurrahed  for  ; 
that  their  names  were  Pierce  and  Gen.  Scott.  He 
understood  now  there  were  two  parties,  one  called  the 


20  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"Democratic,"  and  the  other  the  "Whig;"  also  that 
his  father  belonged  to  the  former,  which  meant  that  he 
should  hurrah  for  Pierce. 

One  thing  that  annoyed  him  somewhat  in  the  cam- 
paign was  that  Tom  Swave,  the  storekeeper's  son,  a  boy 
about  two  months  older  than  himself,  his  favorite  as- 
sociate and  classmate  at  school,  hurrahed  for  Gen, 
Scott.  Walter  was  far  too  loyal  to  his  parents  to  dis- 
regard their  dictates,  to  say  nothing  of  those  of  his  own 
conscience.  But  he  did  regret  considerably,  that  he  and 
Tom  had  to  part  roads  on  this  question.  Some  little 
comfort  however  was  derived  from  the  thought  that  so 
far  as  his  observation  extended,  (and  he  had  looked 
around  the  neighborhood  pretty  thoroughly),  Tom's 
side  was  slightly  in  the  minority.  In  addition  to 
that,  Tom  was  such  a  discreet  kind  of  a  boy  ;  he  never 
said  much  about  politics  or  any  other  subject  when  he 
did  not  .see  his  way  clearly  out. 

As  election  da}-  approached  and  the  family  were 
gathered  around  the  fire  one  evening,  Walter's  mother 
reading  the  paper,  a  conversation  took  place  between 
his  parents  which  impres.sed  him  considerably. 

"Jacob,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  laying  down  her  paper, 
"  have  you  been  noticing  how  the  papers  continue  to 
give  accounts  of  disturbances  and  troubles  in  the  North 
about  this  new  law  in  reference  to  the  return  of  slaves 
to  their  masters  ? ' ' 

"Oh  yes,  I  noticed  something  of  the  kind"  replied 
Jacob,  "the  people  have  not  rightly  came  to  under- 
stand the  law  or  give  their  full  support  as  yet." 

"  Well,  how  do  you  mean  the  people  don't  rightly 
understand  ?"  queried  Mrs.  Graham.     "  I  suppose  they 


FIRST   POLITICAL   IMPRESSIONS.  21 

understand  it  requires  them  to  help  catch  these  slaves 
and  return  them  to  their  masters  ?  " 

Jacob  Graham  paused  for  a  moment  and  for  reply 
said,  "  Why,  I  mean  these  people  don't  consider  that  it 
is  merely  a  further  extension,  or  carrying  out  of  the 
provisions  of  the  constitution  itself,  which  provides  for 
the  people  of  the  slave  states  having  the  right,  or  that 
they  were  not  to  be  deprived  of  the  right  to  reclaim  per- 
sons who  have  escaped  from  service  or  labor  from  one 
State  into  another." 

' '  Well,  I  am  only  a  woman  and  do  not  understand 
such  things,  but  it  .seems  to  me  it  does  not  look  consis- 
tent. I  always  thought  this  country  was  called  a  great 
land  of  freedom.  I  don't  wonder  that  people  are  a  little 
indifferent  about  obeying  it ;  and  then  another  thing,  I 
notice  some  of  the  papers  and  people  talk  as  if  the  Dem- 
ocratic party  was  responsible  for  it." 

"  Well,  I  know,"  replied  Jacob,  "but  you  see,  mother, 
we  can  not  take  it  on  ourselves  to  decide  on  the  right- 
fulness of  every  law  that  is  passed  ;  and,  as  regards  the 
Democrats  being  responsible  for  it,  I  don't  see  how  they 
can  make  that  charge.  Did  not  Webster  and  other 
leading  Whigs  support  the  bill.  I  am  just  as  much  in 
favor  of  freedom  as  anybody  else,  and  will  do  as  much 
for  a  colored  man  to  protect  him  in  his  rights  ;  but,  I 
don't  know  as  I  am  bound  to  set  myself  up  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  government  itself.  You  must  not  get  as 
bad  as  Mr.  Williamson  ;  he  declares  openly  that  he 
never  has  obeyed  the  law  and  never  expects  to.  I 
would  not  sa}^  that,  even  if  I  did  not  expect  to  .squirm 
around  it." 

Mrs.  Graham  said,  "  Well,  I  don't  know  but  what  I 
z£'<7?//a?  squirm  around  it.     In  fact,  I   do  not  know  but 


22  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN, 

what  Mr.  Williamson  is  about  half  right.  Now,  Jacob, 
just  take  it  to  yourself.  Suppose  it  should  leak  out 
some  day  that  this  old  colored  man  and  his  family 
down  here  in  the  hollow  had  been  slaves,  and  you 
should  be  called  upon  to  help  take  them  back  to  a  man 
who  claimed  to  be  their  owner,  after  he  has  worked 
there  all  these  years  and  got  that  little  home  for  him- 
self.    Now  I  just  ask,  Jacob,  what  would  j'ou  do  ?  " 

Jacob  gave  no  reply  for  a  few  seconds,  beat  the  arms 
of  his  chair  with  his  fingers,  whistled  in  a  low  uncon- 
scious manner,  a  short  time  and  then  said,  "  Yes,  well, 
that  is  hardly  a  fair  comparison  ;  besides,  I  suppose  if 
that  should  occur  I  would  make  it  suit  to  have  business 
away  from  home  verj'  suddenly.  Well,  I  declare  it  is 
half-past  eight,  I  must  go  to  the  barn  and  look  after 
that  roan  cow  and  the  old  mare.  Walter,  you  may  get 
the  lantern  and  come  along." 

Walter  got  the  lantern  and  went  along,  but  as  he 
walked  along  he  wondered  why  his  father  had  thought 
it  necessary  to  defend  the  Democratic  party  against 
the  charge  of  sending  colored  men  to  slavery  ;  he  won- 
dered whj'  his  mother  had  insinuated  such  a  thing,  and 
he  wondered  still  further,  after  he  went  to  bed,  whether 
his  mother  ever  had  been  as  deep  in  the  Democratic 
faith  as  his  father. 

When  the  election  was  over  the  next  week,  Walter 
discovered  that  his  forecast  as  to  Tom  Swave's  party 
being  in  the  minority,  was  certainly  true  as  applied  to 
the  whole  countr}'.  Pierce  was  overwhelmingly  elected. 
The  conqueror  of  Mexico  had  carried  but  four  states  in 
all  the  Union  ;  and  he  heard  one  enthusiastic  neighbor 
say,  down  at  his  father's  saw  mill,  that  he  doubted  if 
the  Whig  part}'  would  ever  make  another  ralh'.     Wal- 


FIRST    POLITICAL   IMPKKSSIONS.  23 

ter  thought  sometimes,  however,  perhaps  he  could 
hardly  have  told  why,  but  yet  he  half  felt  sometimes 
that  his  father  did  not  join  in  the  general  rejoicing  of 
the  victor}^  with  that  enthusiasm  incident  to  a  man  of 
his  actions  and  temper.  Had  anj^  other  person  noticed 
that?  Had  any  one  of  his  neighbors  for  a  moment 
suspected  that  the  fires  of  Democracy  were  actually  be- 
ginning to  burn  low  in  his  breast?  They  observed,  of 
course,  that  he  was  greatly  absorbed  in  his  new  enter- 
prise of  improving  the  old  farm,  of  repairing  the  old 
saw  mill,  and  the}'  thought  of  the  mortgage  that  was 
on  him  ;  that  was  enough  to  keep  a  man's  mind  pretty 
well  occupied.  It  was  merely  that  and  nothing  more. 
Yes,  there  was  one  other  person  who  noticed  that  all 
through  the  campaign,  as  well  as  after  it  was  over,  her 
husband  acted  more  like  a  quiet  and  thoughtful  looker- 
on  than  one  whose  chief  ambition  was  success  for  his 
party.  She  knew  it  was  unlike  Jacob  to  do  anything 
by  halves.  He  was  a  man  of  opinions.  She  would 
not  have  wanted  him  an  infirm,  feeble  man,  without 
opinions  ;  but,  still  she  felt  entirely  comfortable  under 
the  weak  lethargy  which  he  now  exhibited  on  this 
matter.  She  would  not  goad  him  on  the  subject  or 
argue  with  him  about  anything.  That,  she  did  not 
think  would  be  right,  especially  if  a  w^oman's  instinct 
were  telling  her  that  everything  might  come  around  all 
right  itself.  She  did  not  doubt  of  course,  but  that  he 
would  go  to  the  election  and  vote  for  Pierce,  which  he 
did.  That  there  was  some  untold  reason  why  he  was 
not  putting  his  usual  vim  into  it,  she  felt  morally  cer- 
tain. And  I  feel  sorely  tempted  to  tell  you  right  now, 
that  it  was  the  last  time  he  ever  deposited  a  Democratic 
ticket  in  the  ballot  box.     But  I  must  not  waste  too 


24  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

much  time  with  Jacol)  Graham  in  giving  you  a  narra- 
tive of  his  son  Walter, 

School  had  once  again  opened  at  the  old  stone  school 
house  and  Walter  had  been  in  attendance  only  a  week, 
when  a  visit  from  two  of  the  directors  elicited  the  fact 
that  he  could  name  every  President  of  the  United  States 
in  regular  order  from  Washington  down  to  the  present 
day,  the  number  of  terms  they  had  served,  and  the 
years  of  those  who  had  died  in  office.  He  then  put 
the  cap  stone  of  high  intelligence  and  statesmanship  to 
this  prodigy  by  being  able  to  answer  that  we  would 
have  a  new  President  now,  by  the  name  of  Franklin 
Pierce.  That  Washington  was  called  the  "Father  of 
His  Country;"  Andrew  Jackson, "Old  Hickory;"  and 
that  Thomas  Jefferson  was  the  author  of  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence." 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  satisfactory  to  Mr. 
Flora  than  this  wonderful  exhibition  of  precociousness 
or  have  drawn  forth  a  higher  commendation  from  the 
two  official  gentlemen,  whose  visit  was  duly  appreciated 
by  themselves  at  least ;  both  of  whom  declared  ' '  that 
was  what  they  liked  to  see  brought  out  in  the  schools, 
some  knowledge  of  public  matters."  Candor,  also 
compels  me  to  say  the  transaction,  taken  as  a  whole, 
was  not  unpleasant  to  Walter. 

Scarcely  another  week  had  rolled  around  when  the 
school  was  to  have  its  first  afternoon's  spelling  on  sides. 
As  Walter  was  standing  on  his  side  pretty  well  toward 
the  foot,  listening  with  trembling  emotions  to  the  big 
words  that  were  coming  down  the  line,  he  staggered 
for  an  instant  when  the  word  "  fugitive  "  struck  him. 
'"Fugitive,''  repeated  Mr.  Flora,  rather  sympathetically. 
'  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  '  Fugitive  Slave  I^aw  ?'  " 


FIRST   POLITICAL    IMPRESSIONS.  25 

Walter  commenced  to  feel  his  way  along  the  sj-llables 
and  to  his  great  surprise  got  it  right.  As  the  words 
passed  on  to  the  other  pupils,  he  lost  the  run  of  them, 
as  he  was  thinking  that  it  seemed  to  him,  somehow,  he 
had  heard  of  the  ' '  Fugitive  Slave  Law. ' '  He  would 
not  have  been  quite  certain,  but  he  had  a  kind  of  an 
idea  that  it  had  some  connection  with  the  subject  his 
father  and  mother  had  been  discussing  the  evening  he 
got  the  lantern  to  go  out  and  help  look  for  the  roan 
cow  and  the  old  mare.  Thus  engaged  in  his  thoughts, 
his  turn  came  around  before  he  was  aware  of  it,  and 
the  '' tives"  not  all  exhausted  yet.  Representative 
proved  a  little  too  long  for  him  and  he  returned  to  his 
seat. 

It  was  only  another  week  from  this  occasion  that  his 
father  said  to  him  one  evening  after  the  supper  was 
over,  "Well,  Walter,  do  you  want  to  go  along  to  the 
debate  this  evening  ?  ' ' 

The  regular  winter  lyceum  had  been  organized  for 
a  month  now,  and  Walter  knew  that  his  father  usually 
took  considerable  interest  in  it.  He  quickly  replied, 
' '  Yes,  I  would  like  to  go. ' ' 

Mrs.  Graham  interposed,  saying,  "Oh,  I  don't  know  ; 
had  he  better  go  ?    It  will  keep  him  out  of  bed  so  late." 

"Oh,  yes."  said  Jacob,  "he  is  getting  old  enough 
to  pick  up  a  good  bit  now,  just  by  listening.  That  is 
a  good  wa}'  to  learn  things." 

Walter  accordingly  put  on  his  cap  and  coat  and 
marched  off  with  his  father  to  the  Shocktown  debating 
society.  There  he  saw  his  teacher,  Mr.  Flora,  acting 
as  president ;  Mr.  Baker,  who  he  knew  kept  the  little 
academy  some  three  miles  distant ;  old  Mr.  Williamson 
of  whom  he  had  heard  ;   Mr.  Hoover,  the  village  black- 


26  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

smith,  who  he  understood  was  an  enthusiastic  Demo- 
crat :  even  their  minister,  Mr.  Hartle}-,  had  come  in  and 
another  Httle  short  man  by  the  name  of  Hirsh,  whom 
he  understood  to  be  a  kind  of  local  preacher  in  the 
Methodist  Church. 

I  will  not  undertake  to  say  that  Walter  understood 
all  that  had  been  said  that  evening,  for  the  simple  rea- 
son that  he  did  (according  to  his  mother's  fears,)  go  to 
sleep  part  of  the  time.  But  certain  it  was,  his  mind 
was  at  its  impressible  stage,  and  his  father  was  equally 
right  that  he  could  ' '  catch  on  " '  to  a  great  many 
things.  Certain  it  was  that  between  naps  he  heard  the 
words,  "  Fugitive  Slave  Law,"  and  in  connection  with 
it  the  name  of  Senator  Mason,  of  \'irginia.  Surely  he 
thought  old  Mr.  William.son  spoke  the  most  earnestlj- 
of  any  man  there.  His  ear  caught  other  phrases  like 
"  Mason  and  Dixon's  Line,"  the  "Missouri  Compro- 
n;ise  I^ine,"  and  the  "  Wilmot  Proviso."  He  certainly 
could  not  be  mistaken  when  he  heard  Mr.  Hoover  sa}^ 
in  great  .spread  eagle  manner,  "  that,  by  the  Eternal,  the 
Union  must  and  shall  be  preserved,"  that  he  was  onl}- 
quoting  the  language  of  "  Old  Hickory." 

When  he  returned  that  evening  his  mother  asked 
him  what  he  had  learned  ;  she  thought  he  gave  her 
quite  as  intelligent  a  report  of  it  as  she  could  have 
hoped  for.  Walter  told  her  he  thought  Mr.  William- 
son was  the  best  debater,  and  that  "  he  talked  a  good 
bit  about  the  Fugitive  Slave  Bill." 

A  few  weeks  after  this  another  event  occurred  at 
.school  which  seemed  to  startle  Walter  a  little  at  him- 
.self,  and,  he  half  believed,  set  his  father  to  thinking. 

There  was  going  to  school  a  little  colored  boy,  named 
Ben.  Smith,  about  eight  years  old,   who  was  the  butt 


FIRST   POLITICAL   IMPRESSIONS.  27 

of  the  school,  tormented  nearly  to  death  by  other  chil- 
dren, and  almost  universally  called, ' '  You  little  nigger, ' ' 
in  the  most  thoughtless  manner.  One  day,  as  a  group 
of  the  boys  had  him  astride  a  rail  carrying  him  along  and 
jolting  him  up  considerably.  Bill  Boyle,  a  boy  about 
eleven  years  old,  ran  up  rudely  against  Walter,  who 
was  standing  near  b}',  (but  in  no  wise  participating  in 
the  affair)  with  a  pin  in  his  hand  to  give  the  "little 
nigger"  a  slight  prick,  that  he  might  jump  more 
actively  on  the  rail. 

"  Bill  Boyle,  you  big  whelp,"  exclaimed  Walter, 
' '  what  are  you  running  and  pushing  against  a  fellow 
that  way  for  ?  Besides,  can't  you  let  that  little  darkey 
alone ;  what  is  the  u.se  of  worrying  the  life  out  of  him 
all  the  time  ? ' ' 

'  Oh,  you  want  to  take  the  part  of  a  nigger,  do  you, 
Walt.  Graham  ?"  retorted  Bill,  in  an  angry  voice.  "  Be- 
sides, I  don't  intend  to  be  called  a  whelp  by  anybody 
who  sticks  their  lip  in  for  the  sake  of  a  nigger."  As 
he  closed  his  remarks  he  turned  around  in  front  of 
Walter,  shook  his  fist  under  his  chin,  drawing  the  pin 
he  had  intended  for  the  "  nigger  "  across  Walter's  face, 
making  a  scratch  about  an  inch  and  a  half  long,  where- 
upon Walter  without  stopping  to  consider  consequences, 
sprang  at  the  throat  of  Bill  Boyle  with  the  quickness 
of  a  cat  and  the  dexterity  of  a  modern  pugilist,  struck 
him  with  such  force  on  his  breast  that  Bill  tripped  on 
the  same  rail  on  which  the  little  darkey  had  been  riding 
(now  dropped  to  the  ground).  Bill  fell  with  full  force 
on  the  broad  of  his  back,  Walter  on  top  of  him,  chok- 
ing him  severely  all  the  time,  until  he  actually  gasped 
for  breath. 

The  other  bovs  now  rushed  around,  exclaiming,  "Give 


2^  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

him  a  fair  chance."  "  I  reckon  Hill  ought  to  have  a  fair 
show  against  one  smaller  than  himself,"  said  Tom 
Swave. 

"Yes,  but  Bill  tripped  on  the  rail,"  cried  Jack  Mat- 
son. 

"Hold  on,  now,"  said  Frank  Swave,  Tom's  older 
brother,  as  Bill's  big  brother,  Jake,  was  going  to  pull 
Walter  off,  "  Bill  struck  first,  I  .saw  it." 

"  Yes,  but  then,"  exclaimed  several  voices  in  concert, 
"  Walter  interfered  first  on  account  of  the  little  nigger  ; 
we  wont  stand  that." 

Walter,  now  parti j-  pulled  off  by  Bill's  older  brother 
and  partly  of  his  own  accord,  let  Bill  up,  giving  him  a 
parting  blow  under  the  ribs  with  his  fist. 

The  bell  now  rang  for  school,  which  called  a  halt  to 
the  belligerents. 

Mr.  Flora,  who  had  noticed  the  whole  affair  from  the 
window,  with  great  diplomacy  was  now  looking  upon 
it  with  an  air  of  innocence,  as  though  he  took  it  all  to 
be  an  ordinary  good  natured  tussleing  match  on  the 
part  of  the  boys,  as  he  stood  in  the  door  ringing  the 
bell.  He  was  too  good  a  politician  not  to  feel  instinct- 
ively the  wisdom  of  such  a  course.  I  must  say,  how- 
ever, in  justice  to  Mr.  Flora,  that  I  have  always  believed 
had  he  been  forced  to  take  official  notice  of  the  proceed- 
ings, he  would  have  stood  by  the  side  of  Walter  and 
the  despised  negro. 

Walter  gathered  from  the  whispers  of  the  children 
that  afternoon  .somewhat  the  sentiment  of  the  school. 
That  he  had  been  "game"  in  "tackling  Bill,''  there 
seemed  to  be  considerable  unanimity  of  opinion.  To 
that  noted  fact  the  young  heroes  and  heroines  of  Shock- 
town  public  school  bowed  with  the  same  obeisance  that 


FIRST   POLITICAL  IMPRESSIONS.  29 

they  did  in  after  years  to  gallant  militar}^  opponents, 
like  Lee  and  Jackson.  As  to  his  offering  to  chide  white 
children  about  their  conduct  toward  a  "nigger,"  it 
seemed  to  be  generally  considered  rather  a  degrading 
thing  to  do  ;  especially  so,  he  heard  one  boy  say,  when 
"  his  father  was  a  Democrat."  As  to  the  abstract  ques- 
tion whether  a  ' '  nigger  boy  ' '  had  any  rights  at  school 
that  the  other  boys  were  bound  to  respect,  public  senti- 
ment w^as  about  equally  divided. 

Between  these  conflicting  comments  Walter  scarcely 
knew  whether  to  regard  himself  as  a  chivalrous  knight, 
possessed  of  sentiment  of  courage  and  honor,  or  a  mean 
fellow  who  had  espoused  a  base  cause.  At  all  events 
he  felt  morally  certain  that  he  had  nothing  to  conceal 
from  his  parents  this  time,  and  his  own  conscience  was 
at  ea.se.  To  be  perfectly  candid,  however,  I  must  say 
that  he  felt  a  little  more  alarmed  than  he  would  have 
been  willing  to  admit  when  he  heard  Bill  whisper,  "Our 
Jake  will  give  it  to  you  going  home  to-night ;"  and  he 
felt  considerably  relieved  when  Tom  Swave  said,"  You 
keep  right  along  by  our  Frank  when  you  go  out  to- 
night." 

When  he  was  safe  home  that  evening  and  related  the 
whole  occurance  to  his  parents,  he  thought  his  father 
seemed  to  meditate  considerably  when  he  told  him  of 
the  part  which  implied  that  they  would  not  have  ex- 
pected such  conduct  from  the  son  of  a  Democrat.  His 
parents,  however,  said  very  little  about  it  one  way  or 
the  other,  except  to  remark  that  he  had  better  keep  out 
of  all  the  fights  he  could,  but  under  the  circumstances 
they  thought  he  had  done  about  right  in  this  case. 

As  the  winter  of  1853  drew  to  a  close  there  was  yet 
another  circumstance  occured  that  made  an  impression 


30  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

on  Walter's  tnind,  more  deep  and  ineffaceable  than  any 
that  had  yet  happened.  From  all  the  positions  in  life 
he  has  since  held  he  has  looked  back  and  wondered 
how  much  this  little  event  on  that  March  evening  had 
to  do  with  shaping  his  political  future. 

He  and  Tom  Swave  were  walking  down  by  the  creek 
which  flowed  through  his  father's  farm,  about  du.sk  in 
the  evening,  to  set  their  musk-rat  traps,  when  there 
emerged  from  the  side  of  the  woods,  about  -fifty  yards 
away  and  about  the  same  distance  from  the  road,  a 
young  colored  man  with  a  wild  glare  in  his  eyes, 
who  stopped  involuntarih-  when  he  saw  the  boys,  and 
seemed  very  much  disconcerted.  The  look  of  fright 
and  bewilderment  was  somewhat  mutual.  After  a 
moment's  pau.se,  Tom  said,  ''Which  way  are  you 
going?"' 

The  colored  man  replied  timidly,  "Oh,  I  was  just 
taking  a  walk  through  de  woods  ;  what  are  you  boys 
doing?" 

"  We  are  just  .setting  our  traps,"  replied  Walter. 

The  man  .seeming  a  little  more  composed,  advanced  a 
few  steps,  saying  "  deres  plenty  of  things  to  catch  along 
de  creek  heah  I  guess." 

"  Yes  ;  some  musk-rats,"  replied  the  boys. 

There  had  now  taken  place  in  this  short  dialogue 
that  indescribable  something  which  passes  from  count- 
enance to  countenance  that  establishes  confidence. 

The  man  then  said,  "  I  was  huntin'  de  road  to  .some 
cross  roads,  I  forgets  de  name,  day  says  'bout  a  mile 
off." 

"  Martin's  cross  roads?"  queried  the  boys. 

"  Dat  am  de  place,  dat  am  de  place,"  he  said,  advanc- 
ing and  handing  the  boys  a  note. 


FIRST   POLITICAL   IMPRESSIONS.  31 

They  took  it  from  him  and  read,  "  Mr.  WilHamson 
near  Martin's  cross  roads."  The}-  directed  him  the 
way  as  well  as  the}'  could  and  instructed  him  how  he 
might  know  the  place  when  he  came  to  it. 

The  boys  then  finished  setting  their  traps  and  walk- 
ed homeward  together  almost  in  silence.  When  the}* 
reached  the  place  where  they  were  to  part  Tom  said, 
"Walt.,  don't  you  ever  say  anything  to  anybody  as 
long  as  yo*i  live  about  us  .seeing  this  darkey  to-night, 
and  of  his  inquiring  the  road  to  John  Williamsons. 

Walter  replied  that  he  "  never  would  unless  it  should 
be  to  his  parents."  Tom  said,  ''  I  don't  believe  I  would 
even  mention  it  to  anybody  living."  To  this  Walter 
made  no  reply,  but  as  he  walked  to  his  home  he  felt 
somehow,  he  now  had  a  prett}^  clear  conception  of  what 
the  "fugitive  slave  law"  was.  It  seemed  to  throw 
him  into  a  deep  study.  He  began  to  doubt  if  his 
father  ever  had  a  very  high  respect  for  this  law  ;  as  for 
himself  he  was  sure  now  that  he  thoroughh'  despised 
it.  Taken  all  together  it  is  safe  to  sa}'  that  he  had 
received  his  first  political  impressions. 


»N  V  t 


CHAPTER    III. 

FIRST  POIJTICAI.   ASPIKATIOXS. 

TT  has  already  inadvertantly  slipped  out  that  Jacob 
^  Graham  cast  at  the  pesidential  election  of  1852  his 
last  Democratic  vote.  Did  he  know  at  the  time  that 
it  was  such  ?  No.  There  are  seconds  that  count  for 
centuries.  There  are  moments  that  change  the  destiny 
of  nations.  There  are  conversions  that  are  made  in 
an  instant,  but  Jacob  Graham's  was  not  of  this  kind. 
The.se  are  generally  made  when  the  furnace  is  at 
white  heat  ;  the  conflict  in  the  American  Republic 
had  not  as  yet  reached  that  point.  But  who  believed 
it  was  so  near  ?  Some  difference  of  opinion  existed 
as  to  how  long  the  fire  had  been  smouldering,  but 
Jacob  Graham  knew  now  that  it  was  smouldering. 
He  was  not  among  those  who  were  deluded  by  the 
promises  of  two  great  political  conventions,  that  the 
agitation  of  the  slavery  question  was  forever  at  rest. 
He  was  far  too  intelligent  a  man  to  be  cheated  by  such 
subterfuge.  But  was  he  called  upon  to  break  the  bonds 
of  party,  of  fellowship,  of  life  as.sociations  ?  You,  who 
think  this  is  an  easy  thing  to  do,  go  try  it.  You  may 
hire  men  for  thirteen  dollars  a  month  to  face  the  can- 
non's mouth  quite  readily,  if  your  cau.se  is  popular  ;  but 
go  see  what  headway  you  make  in  procuring  men  to 
espouse  that  cause,  simply  by  word  and  sympathy, 
which  shall  bring  upon  them  the  frowns  of  their  neigh- 
bors. Conscience,  you  may  answer,  will  triumph  in 
the  end  in  a  man  of  Jacob  Graham's  mould.     Yes,  but 


FIRST    POLITICAL   ASPIRATIONS.  33 

you  must  remember  that  Jacob  Graham  was  a  man  of 
judgment  as  well  as  conscience.  What  overpowering 
argument  was  there  he,  reasoned,  convinced  him  that 
he  could  turn  his  back  upon  the  party  of  his  father, 
upon  the  party  of  Jefferson,  who  he  believed  saw  as 
clearly  as  the  most  violent  abolitionist  of  the  present 
day,  that  this  fuse  had  been  burning  ever  since  the 
Constitutional  Convention  in  1787,  adjourned  at  Phila- 
delphia with  those  compromises  in  it.  And  from  him 
had  he  learned  that  "  where  he  could  not  lead  he  could 
follow."  Then,  besides,  where  was  he  to  go?  The 
Whigs  were  as  completely  swallowed  up  in  the  vortex 
as  the  Democrats.  Could  that  old  party  of  aristocrats 
point  their  finger  at  those  whose  very  names  symbo- 
lized liberty,  and  sa}^  "Thou  did'st  it."  No,  their 
necks  were  bowed  in  perfect  submission,  sometimes  he 
thought  in  shame.  To  be  sure,  he  had  understood 
that  their  chief  organ,  the  New  York  Tribune  (although 
he  did  not  read  it)  had  said,  "  They  supported  the  can- 
didate, but  spit  upon  the  platform."  This  he  regarded 
as  the  subtle  excuse  of  a  guilty  conscience.  He  had 
been  for  the  Wilmot  Proviso  ;  had  hoped  thereby  to 
.secure  the  newly  acquired  territory  from  Mexico  ex- 
empt from  the  curse  of  slaver}-.  The  author  of  that 
mea.sure,  whose  name  it  bore,  was  not  he  a  Democrat  ? 
Had  the  Whigs  stood  by  it  any  better  than  the  Demo- 
crats ?  Precious  little.  Had  not  Webster  and  Clay 
both  floundered,  and  what  were  they  but  the  Whig 
party  ?  To  be  sure,  there  were  a  few  other  names  men- 
tioned now  in  connection  with  these  feverish  debates  in 
Congress,  a  little  circle  of  them  who  had  refused  to  put 
fetters  on  their  limbs  ;  but  they  were  spoken  of  as  "  old 
Giddings,  of  Ohio,"  "  Thad.  Stevens,  of  Pennsylvania, 


34  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

with  his  cloven  hoof,"*  "Moral  Lecturer  Sumner," 
and  "  Higher  Law  Seward."  Whatever  may  have  been 
the  real  respect  Walter  Graham's  father  entertained  ot 
the.se  radicals  in  his  own  n>ind,  it  was  obvious  to  him 
that  it  was  not  their  council  that  pervaded,  or  their  sen- 
timents that  animated  the  convention  which  had  nom- 
inated General  Scott.  As  he  surveyed  the  field  soberly 
to  himself,  he  saw  a  small  circle  of  "fanatics,"  of  im- 
practical men  and  women,  who  had  separated  them- 
-selves  from  all  political  organization,  ready  for  the  dis- 
solution of  the  Union  itself  if  necessary  to  expunge 
slavery  from  the  country  ;  who  went  up  and  down  the 
land  preaching  as  if  they  regarded  themselves  as  pro- 
phets, and  who.se  only  organ,  he  understood,  was  a  small 
.sheet  publi-shed  from  a  garret  loft  in  Boston,  which 
openly  declared  that  it  desired  "no  Union  with  slave 
holders,"  and  that  the  United  States  Constitution, 
"  was  itself  a  covenant  with  death  and  a  league  with 
hell."  Surely,  he  thought,  there  were  no  qualms  ot 
conscience  calling  him  there.  His  belief  in  the  immor- 
tal utterance  of  the  tough  old  hero  of  his  party,  "  that 
by  the  eternal  the  Union  must  and  shall  be  preserved," 
was  with  him  no  mere  sentiment.  He  believed  it  from 
the  depth  of  his  heart,  from  every  fibre  of  his  being, 
and  he  would  entertain  no  solution  of  any  question 
which  contemplated  its  destruction,  let  it  come  from  the 
columns  of  the  "Liberator"  or  from  the  mouth  of 
John  C.  Calhoun  and  his  young  disciples,  Davis  and 
Toombs.  On  that  question  he  would  "  hew  to  the  line, 
let  the  chips  fly  where  the  might." 

There  was  still  another  course  over  which  his  mind 


*  Mr.  Stevens  had  one  club  foot. 


FIRST    POLITICAL   ASPIRATIONS.  35 

dwelt  longer  than  all  else  besides.  There  was  a  little 
third  party  of  which  neighbor  Williamson  was  already- 
a  member.  It  was  numerically  weak,  to  be  sure  ;  he 
could  count  on  the  fingers  of  his  one  hand  all  the  votes 
it  had  received  in  Adams  Township.  Indeed,  Hale  and 
Julien's  vote  in  Jefferson  County  had  onl}-  reached  273  ; 
but  was  not  the  principle  .strong  "  free  soil  " — the  con- 
titutional  power  of  Congress  to  prohibit  slavery  in 
all  the  territories  ?  Was  it  not  only  a  question  of  time 
when  these  men  of  the  more  advanced  views  of  the  old 
expiring  Whig  party  and  the  anti-slavery  element  of- 
his  own  party,  like  David  Wilmot,  would  land  there. 
He  would  not  plunge  in  headlong,  like  an  impractical, 
to  get  there  too  soon,  and  lose  his  reputation  in  the- 
neighborhood  of  being  a  sagacious,  cool-headed  man  ; 
but  he  would  wait  and  watch  ;  aye,  with  a  vigilance 
which  none  but  his  wife  should  understand.  Thus, 
while  waiting  and  watching  he  found  some  convenient 
excuse  for  not  getting  at  the  election  at  all  in  the  fall 
of  1853  and  for  voting  .some  kind  of  a  high-bred  mon- 
grel "Native  American,  Know- Nothing ''  ticket  the 
years  of  1854  and '55,  and  of  which  he  always  after- 
wards felt  half  ashamed,  and  of  which  he  always  half 
believed  even  Walter  suspected. 

During  these  j-ears  of  transition  in  the  political  opin- 
ions of  Jacob  Graham,  the  mind  of  Walter  was  passing 
through  its  formative  state.  That  the  foundation  of  its 
political  side  was  already  laid  in  horror  at  the  thought 
of  having  anything  to  do  with  the  "  Fugitive  Slave 
L,aw,"  made  it  perfectly  easy  for  him  to  understand 
the  cause  of  his  father's  reticence,  to  foresee  rather 
clearly  for  one  of  his  j-ears  where  he  was  drifting  and 
to  keep  perfect  step  with  him  in  the  march.     He  saw 


3P)  \valtp:r  graham,  statesman. 

that  Mr.  Williamson  was  growing  to  be  a  greater  man 
in  the  mind  of  his  father  than  he  had  formally  esteemed 
him,  through  his  integrity  he  had  never  doubted.  He 
received  more  of  his  confidence  and  vSimday  afternoon 
talks  now  than  any  other  neighbor. 

"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  had  been  read  in  the  family 
now,  and  in  the  fall  of  1S55,  occasional  copies  of  the 
New  York  Trihinc  crept  inadvertantlx'  in.  They 
contained  blood  curdling  accounts  of  the  outrages  in 
Kansas.  Walter  always  had  been  fond  of  the  tragic,  of 
heroes  and  hero  stories.  vSomething  unusual  was  going 
to  happen  he  felt  sure,  some  excellent  opportunities  for 
those  who  were  anxious  to  perish  upon  the  bed  of 
honor. 

Thus  it  was  Mrs.  Graham,  who  had  long  since  landed 
at  the  political  port  of  abolitionism,  at  which  place  she 
awaited  the  arrival  of  her  husband  and  son,  perceived 
with  unerring  instinct  that  the  impre.s.sions  of  the  latter 
on  that  subject  were  beginning  to  take  the  shape  of 
aspirations.  In  this  latter  thought  she  was  not  quite 
so  happy  as  she  had  been  in  contemplating  the  former. 
Now  she  was  a  little  uneasy,  filled  with  slight  forebod- 
ings when  her  mind  turned  on  what  she  was  afraid 
might  be  the  bent  of  Walter's  mind.  But  he  was 
young  \-et ;  could  she  not  mould  and  direct  that  mind 
into  other  thoughts  and  other  fields,  or  could  she 
change  the  mould  and  thought  that  God  had  given  it, 
mother  though  .she  was  ?  Thus  she  rea.soned  and  quer- 
ied, and  wondered  if  it  would  be  right  to  do  it  even  if 
she  could  ;  but  there  was  one  thing  she  must  do,  keep 
his  mind  pure  and  keep  it  near  to  her  own. 

Accordingly  it  happened  one  sombre  September  even- 
ing, in  the  fall  of  1S55,   ^^r-''-    Graham  was  sitting  by 


FIRST    POLITICAL   ASPIRATIONS.  6i 

the  kitchen  door,  stringing  some  beans  for  the  morrow's 
dinner,  when  Walter  approached  her,  coming  up  the 
path  from  the  saw  mill. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Walter  Graham,  how  has  the  day  gone 
with  you?"  she  asked,  as  she  advanced. 

"  Oh,  pretty  well,  mother;  how  has  it  gone  with  Mrs. 
Graham?"  said  Walter,  in  the  easy  familiarity  she  had 
always  endeavored  to  establish  between  herself  and 
children. 

"Well,  I  suppose  she  has  no  reason  to  complain 
either,"  rejoined  his  mother,  "  but  I  think  I  will  go  to 
.sleep  to-night  without  rocking." 

' '  I  have  loaded  twenty-three  cart  loads  of  stone  for 
the  masons  to-day  ;  that  is,  Pat  McNight  and  I,  and  we 
helped  on  with  three  logs  at  the  mill,  and  I  don't  feel 
a  bit  tired,"  said  Walter  ;  then  to  give  his  mother  con- 
clusive proof  of  what  he  said,  Walter  turned  around 
upon  the  grass,  and  turned  two  successive  hand-springs. 

"Well,  now,  Walt.;  if  your  strength  hurts  you  so," 
rejoined  his  mother,  "you  can  take  the  ax  and  split 
up  .some  of  that  oven  wood  for  morning;  I  want  to  start 
baking  early." 

"  Yes,  mother,"  he  answered,  "  as  soon  as  Joe  gets 
done  learning."  The  former  was  now  lying  upon  the 
grass,  so  that  his  body  might  make  a  rest  or  fulcrum, 
over  which  his  five-year  old  brother  could  learn  to  per- 
form the  same  feat. 

Mrs.  Graham,  after  watching  for  a  few  minutes  with 
some  interest,  how  boj-s  learned  to  turn  the  hand- 
spring, called,  "  here,  Walter,  come  on  now;  it  is  time 
you  were  at  the  wood. ' '  But  instantly,  seeing  an  oppor- 
tunity to  lead  the  conversation  up  to  a  point  she  wished 
to  reach,  without  Walter  suspecting  her  motive,  she 


38  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

contiiiuud,  "  is  that  an  easy  thing  to  do:  turn  over  that 
that  way  ?" 

"  No,  indeed,"  exclaimed  Walter,  triumphantly,  "  it 
takes  a  pretty  good  man  to  turn  the  handspring." 

"  Can  most  of  the  boys  at  school  do  it  ?"  asked  his 
mother. 

"  Indeed,  they  can't,"  continued  Walter,  in  thesame 
tone  ;   only  about  three  or  four. 

"  Can  Tom  Swave  do  it  ?"  queried  his  mother. 

"  He  can  kind  of  do  it  by  going  a  little  side  wise," 
replied  Walter.  "  There  are  only  two  others  that  can 
do  it  straight  over  like  I  do.  They  are  Jack  Matson 
and  the  little  darkey,  Ben.  vSmith." 

"  Tom  cannot  do  it,  then,  quite  as  well  as  they,  can't 
he?"  said  Mrs.  Graham.  "No;  not  twice  in  succes- 
sion," answered  Walter. 

"  By  the  way,  Walter,  what  kind  of  a  boy  is  Tom 
Swave,  anyhow?"  asked  his  mother. 

The  response  came  quick  from  Walter's  lips.  "  Oh, 
he  is  a  tip-top  boy,  mother  ;  why,  what  makes  you  ask 
me  that  ?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  replied  his  mother,  a  little 
more  thoughtful  now.  "  I  have  sometimes  wondered, 
Walter,  whether  he  is  in  all  respects  the  kind  of  a  boy 
you  ought  to  be  so  intimate  with." 

Walter  answered  with  a  fervor  born  of  true  friendship, 
saying,  "  Oh,  indeed,  mother,  he  is  the  best  bo}-  in  the 
whole  neighborhood  around.  I  would  not  swap  him 
for  all  the  rest  put  together. ' ' 

"  I  know  you  are  very  fond  of  him,  "  rejoined  his 
mother;  ' '  but  are  you  really  sure  he  cares  so  much  for 
you?" 


FIRST   POLITICAL   ASPIRATIONS.  31) 

' '  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt  it  as  yet, ' '  Walter  re- 
plied meditatively. 

This  answer  seemed  to  convey  with  it  a  .sound  phil- 
osophy, which  Mrs.  Graham  perceived  at  once  and 
thought  to  herself :  why  then  should  I  be  the  first  to 
disturb  that  confidence,  perhaps  without  a  reason,  and 
thus  she  said:  "Well,  then,  don't  doubt  it  without  a 
cause;  that  is  all  right ;  I  suppose  he  is  .smart  enough 
in  his  studies,  is  he?" 

"  I  should  think  he  was,"  answered  Walter.  "  He  is 
the  only  boy  in  school  I  am  afraid  of  in  that  wa}'.  He 
don't  study  very  hard  either." 

"  You  and  he  like  to  pitch  quoits,  sometimes,  on  Sun- 
day afternoons,  down  at  the  saw  mill,  don't  you  ?" 

' '  Yes;  but  then  he  is  not  a  bad  bo}^  mother, ' '  repeated 
Walter  ;  "he  goes  to  Sunday  School  and  church  everj^ 
Sunday  morning,  the  same  as  we  children  do." 

Walter  proceeded  to  cut  his  oven  wood,  and  Mrs. 
Graham  proceeded  with  her  work. 

The  next  Sunday,  after  the  family  had  returned  from 
church,  and  dinner  over,  Mrs.  Graham  and  Joe  started 
out  for  a  short  stroll  over  the  fields.  A  few  minutes 
later  the  two  little  girls,  Mary  and  Sue,  respectively 
two  and  tour  3-ears  younger  than  Walter,  smiled  and 
motioned  him  to  the  window,  where  he  saw  Tom 
Swave  walking  up  the  road,  whistling  a  supposed  tune 
and  casting  side  glances  toward  the  house,  which  was 
the  usual  signal  for  Walter  to  come  out. 

Walter  turned  to  his  mother,  half  doubtingly,  and 
said,  "  Tom  is  out  here  mother;  may  I  go  out?  "  His 
mother  without  showing  the  least  emotion  answered, 
"Yes,  tell  him  to  come  in  and  see  the  rest  of  us." 

Walter  weut  out,  and  after  some  minutes,  returned 


40  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

with  Tom.  As  he  entered,  Mrs.  Graham  advanced, 
addressed  him  friendly  as  she  took  him  by  the  hand, 
saying,  "  How  are  you,  Thomas;  you  are  quite  a  stran- 
ger. You  are  so  partial  with  your  visits,  we  thought 
we  would  like  you  to  come  in  and  see  the  rest  of  us 
once."  Tom  replied  quite  at  ease,  and  with  consider- 
able urbanity  of  manner,  that  he  was  quite  well, 
thanked  her,  and  said,  ' '  How  are  you  ?  "  "  Very  well, ' ' 
was  the  replj-.  "  How  has  j'our  mother  been  this  sum- 
mer, Tom  ?  You  must  excuse  me  for  calling  you  Tom  ; 
I  have  become  so  used  to  Walter  calling  you  that,  and 
I  guess  your  mother  calls  you  that  .sometimes  ?  " 

The  kind,  unrestrained  manner  and  voice  of  Mrs. 
Graham  made  Tom  feel  quite  glad  he  had  come  in, 
and  set  him  to  thinking  whether  he  had  been  mistaken 
all  the  time  in  supposing  that  Walter's  parents  were 
opposed  to  his  loitering  around  on  Sundaj's  so  much  ; 
as  he  answered  all  Mrs.  Graham's  questions  with  the 
same  unconscious  ease,  he  smiled  his  sh}-  "How  do 
5^ou  do  "  to  the  girls. 

These  preliminaries  being  over,  Mrs.  Graham  prepared 
to  lie  down  on  the  old  broad  settee  for  a  short  nap,  say- 
ing, as  she  did  so,  "Boys,  as  you  will  hardly  content 
yourselves  sitting  around  the  house  all  afternoon,  sup- 
pose you  go  down  to  the  mill  and  bring  your  quoits  up 
here  behind  the  wood  shed  if  you  want  to  pitch  ;  I  am 
afraid  it  will  get  to  drawing  other  boys  about  in  crowds 
ifyoudoittoo  much  down  there."  Never  were  two 
boys  more  utterl}-  astoni.shed.  Never  did  two  colts  upon 
a  green  pasture  jump  with  a  greater  agilit}*.  They  had 
not  got  many  yards  out  of  the  door,  when  Walter  re- 
turned and  asked  timidly, ' '  if  John  Hoover,  the  black- 
smith's boy,  might  come  along  up.  He  is  down  there, 
may  we  ask  him  ? "     Mrs.  Graham,  covering  her  face  in 


FIRST    POLITICAL   ASPIRATIONS.  41 

her  shawl  to  repel  the  first  gentle  tinge  of  frost  on  that 
golden  October  day,  answered  with  an  assumed  indif- 
ference, "Yes."  Never  did  mother  do  anything  after 
more  prayerful  consideration  and  seeking  for  the  light, 
than  .she  had  done — in  what  .she  now  did.  She  and 
Jacob  had  talked  it  all  over.  It  would  be  useless  to 
talk  it  all  over  again.  Suffice  to  say  that  Jacob  remem- 
bered that  his  father  had  alwaj's  been  more  rigid  on 
this  question  that  he  thought  necessar}^,  so  rigid  indeed, 
that  he  could  remember  having  hid  away  sometimes  on 
Sunday  morning  to  keep  from  going  to  church,  a  thing 
Walter  had  never  done.  Mrs.  Graham  remembered 
that  her  father  relaxed  considerabl}^  in  his  later  years 
on  this  question,  without  destroying  either  the  spiritual 
or  moral  character  of  his  children.  He  had  also  ad- 
mitted to  her  that  when  a  boy  "  he  used  to  feel  the  old 
Puritan  New  England  Sunday  coming  on,  on  Saturday 
night,  like  a  dread  pall,  and  pa.s.sing  off  on  Monday 
morning  like  a  heavy  night-mare  dream;"  so  they 
mutually  reached  the  well  matured  opinion  that  if  Wal- 
ter's limbs  were  bound  to  have  a  little  stretching  on 
Sunday  afternoons,  in  obedience  to  nature's  decree, 
they  had  better  let  it  be  done  under  their  own  observa- 
tion and  consent,  rather  than  at  the  saw  mill  by  stealth, 
where  the  village  boys  might  promiscuously  congre- 
gate. The  wisdom  of  their  couise  was  made  manifest 
sooner  than  they  had  hoped  for.  The  afternoon  had 
scarce  elapsed  when  Mrs.  Graham,  by  tho.se  indispens- 
ible  qualities  pertaining  to  the  true  mother,  had  led 
her  son  and  his  companions  to  think  there  were  more 
rational  ways  of  spending  their  Sunday  afternoons,  and 
still  have  all  the  enjoyment  they  required.  It  was  ac- 
complished, as  she  had  hoped  it  might  be,  without  issu- 


42  WALTER    ORAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

ing  inflexible  rules  that  would  sour  Walter's  mind 
and  strain  the  relation  between  them,  or  destroy  the 
confidence  he  had  in  his  friend  About  an  hour  before 
supper,  when  Walter  returned  to  the  house,  it  was  to 
find  Mr.  Williamson  and  Mr.  Baker,  sometimes  called 
Professor,  seated  around  his  father.  Mr.  Baker  kept 
the  little  academy  before  mentioned.  Mr.  Wagner, 
who  was  to  be  the  new  teacher  for  the  village  .school 
the  coming  winter,  and  reported  to  be  well  learned  in 
all  the  English  branches,  and  more  adequate  than  Mr. 
Flora,  for  the  increa.sed  demands  of  the  growing  Shock- 
town  school,  was  there.  They  were  discussing,  not 
Sunday  ethics  or  moral  laws,  but  the  "Kansas-Ne- 
braska Bill."  Walter  heard  his  father  say  that  "It 
might  prove  the  last  straw  on  the  camel's  back.'  The 
hard  service  that  was  now  being  required  of  the  people 
of  the  North,  might  produce  a  reaction,  a  di.sintegra- 
tion  in  the  ranks  of  the  Democratic  party  as  well  as 
others. 

Mr.  Williamson  said,  "  I  hope  .so.  The  most  encour- 
aging symptom  I  see  is  that  men  like  you,  Graham,  are 
beginning  to  talk  that  way.  As  for  myself,  after  the 
passage  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law  and  the  compromi.se 
of  1850,  and  the  cowardly  course  of  both  political  par- 
ties of  1852,  I  had  never  felt  more  discouraged.  It 
looked  to  me  as  if  the  conscience  of  the  North  was 
nearly  subdued  About  all  that  was  left  was  that  little 
band  of  Garri.sonians,  whom  I  know,  Graham,  you  look 
upon  as  fanatics  and  traitors,  and  whose  methods  I  be- 
lieve myself  will  never  abolish  slavery,  but  whose 
moral  force  it  may  take  generations  to  realize,  but  in 
the  end,  will  be  mo.st  deeply  felt." 

Professor  Baker  was  of  the  opinion  that  there,  might 


FIRST   POLITICAL   ASPIRATIONS.  43 

be  a  general  welding  together  of  all  the  phrases  of  anti- 
slavery  sentiment  of  the  country  in  some  new  organiza- 
tions, on  some  such  line  of  policy  as  defined  bj-  Seward 
(the  power  of  Congress  to  prohibit  the  admission  of 
slavery  in  any  new  territory ),  the  arousing  of  the  people 
to  the  importance  of  the  measure,  and,  since  there  is  no 
escape  except  the   challenge  in  the  name  of  liberty. 

"Seward  is  a  man,"  rejoined  Mr. Williamson,  "with 
a  very  clear  philosophy,  and  may  serve  as  a  very  excel- 
lent bridge  upon  which  the  conservative  masses  run 
across  the  stream.  The  only  question  is,  whether  he  is 
a  little  afraid  of  his  own  prescriptions.  I  have  it  from 
good  authority,  that  Thad.  Stevens  said  to  some  friend 
in  a  private  conversation,  the  other  day,  that  he  was 
not  to  be  trusted  ;  that  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  relied 
on  in  a  crisis." 

"  Yes,  but  we  must  catch  the  ear  of  the  conservative 
masses,"  observed  Prof.  Baker.  "  We  must  do  first 
what  we  can,  not  what  we  would.  Stevens"  con.stitu- 
ents,  3'ou  will  observe,  have  for  the  present  at  least, 
failed  to  return  him  to  the  House." 

Mr.  Wagner  thought  we  ought  not  to  judge  the 
South  too  harshly.  What  reason  had  we  to  believe 
they  did  not  mean  to  apply  the  principle  of  popular 
sovereignty  in  good  faith  to  all  the  territories  ?  And 
was  not  the  principle  in  accordance  with  a  republican 
government  ?  Had  not  the  people  of  an}^  territorj'  a 
right  to  say  whether  it  should  come  into  the  Union 
slave  or  free  ? 

Mr.  Graham  replied  that  the  new  principle  of  popular 
.sovereignty,  that  Stephen  A.  Douglas  thinks  he  has 
discovered,  is  simply  a  method  bj-  which  the  South  ex- 
pects to  acquire  more  slave  States  south  of  the  old  Mis- 
souri Compromise  line  of  36  degrees  and  30  minutes.    No 


44  WALTER   ORAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

mail  need  flatter  himself  with  the  idea  that  there  will 
be  any  free  States  gained  south  of  that  line,  and  I  am 
one,  who  says  now  with  Seward — let  the  North  accept 
this  challenge  in  the  name  of  libertj',  and,  if  I  were  only 
a  free  man  (I  mean  out  of  property),  I  would  strike  for 
Kansas  and  cast  my  lot  in  the  Free  State  now." 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Gra- 
ham announcing  supper  ;  but  Walter  drank  in  every 
word,  watched  every  emphasis  and  felt  every  emotion 
of  his  father's  last  remarks. 

During  the  following  December,  when  the  long  win- 
ter evenings  were  being  spent  in  pleasant  conversation 
by  the  family  and  Mr.  Wagner,  who  boarded  with 
them  now,  Walter  watched  with  eager  interest  the 
long  contest  for  Speaker  of  the  Hou.se  of  Representa- 
tives, which  became  the  subject  of  observation  by  Mr. 
Wagner.  He  read  the  daily  paper  every  evening  with 
avidity,  and  kept  well  up  with  his  studies  beside. 
When  the  victory  finally  came  to  Banks,  he  and  his 
father  were  both  highly  gratified. 

Later  on  in  the  winter  they  discussed  the  proceedings 
of  a  mass  convention,  held  at  Pittsburg,  for  the  forma- 
tion of  a  new  political  party.  It  had  adjourned  to  meet 
at  Philadelphia  the  following  June  and  to  be  known  as 
the  "  Republican  Part}-."  Some  of  the  business  people 
and  .some  of  the  practical  people  about  the  village,  made 
incidental  allusions  to  the  attitudethe  new  party  might 
take  as  to  the  "tariff,"  "internal  improvements," 
or  the  "Pacific  Railroad."  But  all  the  people  of  all 
parties  instinctively  knew  and  understood  that  the 
origin  and  main-spring  of  the  new  party  was  resistance 
to  the  further  aggressions  of  .slavery,  and  most  especially 
now  to  prevent  the  establishment  of  slavery  in  Kansas. 


FIRST    POLITICAL   ASPIRATIONS.  45 

Walter  Graham  was  ready  for  action  with  all  the 
impetuosity  of  youth,  and  when  the  springtime  came, 
and  brought  to  Shocktown  the  news  that  Charles  Sum- 
ner had  been  struck  down  on  the  floor  of  the  Senate 
for  defending  the  cause  of  freedom  in  Kansas,  he  felt 
like  buckling  on  his  armor  and  marching  down  to 
Washington  to  avenge  the  wrong.  He  thanked  God 
there  was  one  man  in  the  North  with  courage  enough 
to  accept  Brooks'  challenge.  He  looked  upon  An.son 
Burlingame  as  the  hero  of  the  hour.  Of  course,  it  is 
■  needless  to  say,  that,  after  the  Republican  Convention 
met  at  Philadelphia,  laid  down  its  declaration  of 
principles,  declaring  "  slavery  and  polygamy  twin  relics 
of  barbarism,"  and  nominated  John  C.  Fremont  for 
President,  Walter  Graham  and  his  father  plunged  in 
with  all  the  zeal  of  fresh  converts.  As  summer  passed, 
and  the  campaign  waxed  warm,  Walter's  confidence  in 
the  result  increased. 

Mart.  Bernard,  son  of  the  shrewd  Joseph,  who  had 
become  quite  wealthy,  was  now  for  Fremont.  This 
fact  gratified  Walter,  principally  because,  while  he  al- 
ways had  considered  Mart,  a  little  proud,  it  would 
make  his  sisters  (who  really  were  nice  girls,)  all  right. 
That  he  and  Tom  Swave  were  on  the  same  side  now 
was  the  matter  of  special  congratulation  to  him.self. 

At  a  Fremont  meeting  in  the  village  one  evening, 
Walter  beheld  with  satisfaction  and  pride,  that  his 
father  was  called  upon  to  act  as  president.  Tom's 
father  arose  at  the  proper  time,  and  announced  the 
organization,  saying  that  "  they  were  happy  to  call 
upon  Jacob  Graham,  one  of  the  most  intelligent  and 
highly  re-spectable  men  of  our  county,  to  preside — a 
life-long  Democrat  who  had  cast  off  the  stultifying  in- 


46  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATE.SMAN. 

fluences  of  Democracy  and  was  going  in  with  this  new, 
young  party  to  victory." 

This  announcement  was  received  with  enthusiasm. 
Jacob  Graham  a.scended  the  platform,  accepted  his 
honor  with  dignit)'  and  modesty.  He  "  regretted,  how- 
ever, to  announce  that  Hon.  Mr.  Miggels  was  not  with 
them  to-night,  ])ut  there  would  be  no  scarcity  of  able 
speakers,  as  they  had  with  them  Mr.  Riggels,  Esq., 
Mr.  Siggels,  Esq.,  and  the  distinguished  old  veteran 
of  so  many  campaigns,  Mr.  Niggels,  Esq."  These 
men  were  all  members  of  the  Sharwood  bar,  the  county 
seat  of  Jefferson  County,  a  city  of  about  twenty  thou- 
saTid  population.  The  first  two  speakers  were  young 
lawyers  in  their  second  year's  practice.  Walter  was 
not  favorably  impressed  with  them.  He  thought  there 
were  some  young  members  of  Shocktown  Lyceum  who 
could  beat  them.  But  when  old  Mr.  Niggels  arose  to 
address  them,  the  audience  gave  close  attention.  As 
he  warmed  up  with  his  theme,  cheer  after  cheer  broke 
forth  from  old  men  and  small  boys.  Walter's  en- 
thusiasm was  genuine.  He  had  no  doubts  now  as  to 
Adams  Township,  Jefferson  Co.;  it  would  roll  up  four 
thousand  majority.  Said  Mr.  Niggels,  "  It  was  an  old 
manufacturing  county,  a  tariff  county,  whose  interests 
were  all  in  joining  the  new  party  of  freedom.  Industries 
and  enterprises  of  this  character  were  antagonistic  to 
slavery.  Suffer  that  curse  to  enter  Kansas  and  you 
will  never  see  the  smoke  of  a  manufactor\-  arise  from 
within  her  borders." 

Walter  asked  his  father  that  night,  when  they  got 
home,  if  he  thought  there  was  any  doubt  whatever  of 
Fremont's  election.    His  father  said,  he  was  not  one  of 


FIRST   POLITICAL    ASPIRATIONS.  47 

those  over-confident  men  about  such  things,  but  that 
he  was  really  beginning  to  feel  quite  hopeful. 

He  was  slightly  alarmed  some  days  after,  when  he 
heard  Mr.  Williamson  remark  that  he  was  greatly 
pleased  to  see  this  great  increase  of  public  sentiment  ; 
but  he  could  not  allow  himself  to  be  too  confident,  and 
he  coi;ld  not  forget  that  we  had  to  contend  with  an  old 
and  powerful  organization,  thoroughly  disciplined  and 
equipped,  with  all  the  advantage  of  patronage  at  its 
disposal,  and  well  schooled  in  the  art  of  dissembling. 
Already,  he  understood,  in  Penns5dvania  they  were  in- 
.scribing  on  their  banners,  "Buchanan,  and  free  Kan- 
sas," and  by  that  deception,  combined  with  State  pride 
for  their  candidate,  they  hoped  to  save  the  State. 

But  Walter's  mind  was  soon  to  be  relieved  of  any 
misgivings  ;  for  the  next  week  he  went  to  a  large  7nass 
meeting,  at  Marsdale,  where  Burlingame  was  to  speak. 
Of  course,  Burlingame  was  not  there.  Other  engage- 
ments were  more  pressing,  or  he  had  missed  the  cars  ; 
the  audience  did  not  exactly  understand  w^hich.  At 
all  events,  Walter  was  considerably  disappointed  ;  but 
the  president  of  the  meeting  announced  that  they  had 

with  them,  "the  Honorable  Mr.  Brown,  of- — ■,  who 

had  been  a  member  of  the  House  committee  on  terri- 
tories, during  the  last  two  congresses,  and  was  as 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  all  absorbing  questions 
of  the  day  as  any  man  in  the  country." 

Mr.  Brown  was  a  .speaker  of  no  mean  abilities,  thor- 
oughly in  earnest,  and  onh'  descending  a  little  to  the 
spread  eagle  in  his  peroration  which,  on  this  occasion, 
was  substantially  as  follows: — "And  now,  fellow- 
citizens,  does  anj^body  suppose  that  the  leaders  of  the 
South    meant   for  a  moment    that  Mr.  Douglas'    doc- 


48  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATEvSMAN. 

trine  of  popular  sovereignit}-  should  be  applied  to  the 
territories  in  a  spirit  of  fairness  or  good  faith?  If  he 
does,  I  will  read  for  his  benefit  the  following  extract, 
published  in  the  Southern  Kansas  Pioneer :  *  '  The 
South  must  be  up  and  doing,  Kansas  must  and  shall 
be  a  slave  State.  Southern  freemen,  come  along  with 
your  negroes,  and  plow  up  every  inch  of  ground  which 
is  now  disgraced  and  defaced  by  an  Abolition  plow. 
Send  the  black  and  damning  scoundrels  back  from 
whence  they  came,  or  send  them  to  hell,  it  matters  not 
which  destination  ;  suit  your  own  convenience.  Send 
your  rifle  balls,  and  your  glittering  steel  to  their  black 
and  poisonous  hearts.  Sound  the  bugle  of  war  over 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land.  Let  the  war  cry 
never  cease  in  Kansas  again  until  you  have  divested  the 
territory  of  its  last  vestige  of  Abolitionism.' 

"This,  my  fellow-countrymen,  is  the  plain  unvar- 
nished truth  of  what  the  vSouth  really  wanted  to  accom- 
plish by  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise.  Are 
we  going  to  be  thus  deceived  b}'  a  kiss  ?  Northern 
freemen,  come  along  with  your  wives,  your  sons,  and 
daughters,  and  plant  your  homesteads  in  that  broad 
territory,  and  protect  them  with  your  bayonets  and  re- 
volvers. Sir,  it  is  not  merely  a  question  of  the  election 
of  Fremont.  That  question,  I  am  happy  to  inform 
you,  is  settled.  I  have  been  up  and  down  your  State, 
and  through  other  States,  and  I  assure  you  I  have  never 
known  such  an  uprising  in  any  cau.se  since  the  days 
of  the  crusades.  The  people  are  marching  now  for  the 
rescue  of  Kansas,  as  they  marched  then  for  the  rescue 
of  the  Holy  Land.  Sir,  if  Jno.  C.  Fremont  is  not 
elected,  I  will  cease  forever  political  prophecy.     The 


*  A  true  copy,  as  published  at  the  time. 


FIRST   POUTICAL    ASPIRATIONS.  49 

end,  sir,  as  I  verily  believe,  has  come  to  the  party  of 
slavery  ;  to  the  partyjthat  has  made  it  a  felony  to  shel- 
ter the  houseless,  to  clothe  the  naked,  to  give  the  fam- 
ishing a  cup  of  water,  in  the  name  of  his  Master  ;  or 
for  a  slave  to  utter,  in  the  presence  of  his  master,  the 
words  of  Jefferson,  '  Governments  derive  their  just 
powers  from  the  consent  of  the  governed  ;'  or  to  say, 
with  Sidney,  '  Resistance  to  tyrants  is  obedience  to 
God.'  But,  no  sin,  no  sin.  The  slave  oligarchy  have 
no  power  to  stem  this  current.  They  cannot  ascend 
this  Niagara,  Before  they  can  drag  Kansas  into  the 
Union  as  a  slave  State,  they  will  have  to  make  the  old 
oaks  along  the  Missouri  bear  a  different  kind  of  fruit 
than  acorns.  They  will  have  to  make  that  vast  expanse 
of  country,  extending  from  the  Missouri  to  the  summit 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  one  great  desert,  and,  God 
knows,  it  had  better  be  a  barren  de.sert  than  be  polluted 
by  the  withering  foot-steps  of  the  bondsman." 

Mr.  Brown  here  retired  amid  loud  and  continuous 
cheers.  Walter,  who  had  stood  spell-bound  under  the 
burst,  passed  from  a  terrestial  into  something  like  a 
celestial  state  of  mind.  He  had  never  seen  a  full 
fledged  congressman  before.  He  had  never  seen  so 
large  an  assemblage  of  people  before.  Others  might 
have  doubt  as  to  the  election  of  Fremont,  he  had 
none.  To  be  a  member  of  Congress,  addressing  such 
an  assemblage  on  such  a  theme,  was  to  reach  the  acme 
of  fame.  Historians  may  differ  as  to  whether  it  was  by 
Hannibal's  father  or  his  mother,  whether  it  was  at  the 
age  of  nine  or  eleven,  that  he  was  brought  to  the  altar 
and  made  to  swear  eternal  hostility  against  Rome,  but, 
certain  it  was,  that  Walter  Graham  the  next  day,  at 
Shocktown  school,  without  any  coercion  whatever  on 
3 


50  WALTKR    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

tlie  part  of  his  parent,  in  the  presence  of  several  of  his 
school-mates,  in  the  fourteenth  year  of  his  age,  with  an 
air  of  seriousness  that  made  them  smile,  said  that  he 
was  going  to  be  a  congressman  some  day.  Whether 
he  was  animated  alone  by  the  soul-stirring  experiences 
of  the  day  before,  or  whether  he  was  inspired  somewhat 
by  the  thought  that  such  a  scene  might  make  Maggie 
Bernard  smile  upon  him  with  favor,  we  may  never 
know,  but  one  thing  is  reasonably  clear,  that,  taking  all 
together,  he  had  formed  his  first  political  aspirations. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

SOME  SLIGHT  BACK-SETS. 

THE  gray  November  da}'  was  closing  in  on  the 
Shocktown  school  and  the  little  village  where  the 
citizens  of  Adams  Township  had  been  congregating  all 
day  to  exercise  their  sovereign  right  of  voting.  Mr. 
Wagner,  the  new  teacher,  had  slipped  over  to  the  poll- 
ing place  during  the  noon  hour  and  voted  for  Buchanan. 
Walter  regretted  this  fact,  but  still  he  had  to  admit  that 
he  did  like  him  as  a  teacher.  He  seemed  thorough,  ener- 
getic and  kind.  As  to  the  majority  of  the  school,  Wal- 
ter had  no  doubt.  There  were  the  Boyle  boys,  Jake 
and  Bill,  with  whom  he  had  the  contest ;  Jack  Matson, 
whose  father  joined  farms  ;  the  Eong  boys,  sons  of  the 
butcher,  and  Jake  Hoover,  the  blacksmith's  son,  were 
about  all  who  were  for  Buchanan.  The  advocates  of 
Fremont  included  High  and  Ben.  Bowers,  sons  of 
Squire  Bowers,  who  owned  the  old  farm  where  Walter 
was  born,  and  the  most  influential  man  in  the  town- 
ship ;  the  Swave  boys,  the  Miller  boys.  Mart.  Bernard, 
himself,  and  ' '  pretty  much  all  the  little  chaps  and  the 
girls  besides."  So  come  what  might,  Shocktown  school 
would  be  solid  for  the  winter,  Walter  thought.  But 
with  all  that,  if  his  vision  had  not  been  blunted  by  Mr. 
Brown's  speech,  he  might  have  perceived  that  his 
father  had  not  been  quite  so  hopeful  since  the  October 
election   in  Pennsylvania,-'^  when    the  Democrats  had 


*  At  that  time  the  State  election  iu  Peunsvlvaiiia  came  in  October. 


52  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

carried  the  State  by  a  small  majority.  About  an  hour 
after  supper  that  evening,  Mr.  Graham  said  he  believed 
he  would  walk  over  to  the  village.  In  the  merning,  at 
the  breakfast  table,  he  reported  that  Adams  Township 
had  given  fifty-seven  majority  for  Fremont.  Mr.  Wag- 
ner asked  if  that  was  as  much  as  he  had  expected. 
Mr.  Graham  replied,  "Hardly,  I  had  hoped  it  would 
have  gone  up  a  little  higher,  but  when  I  consider  the 
increase  it  is  over  Scott's  majority  of  fifteen,  four  years 
ago,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  satisfied. ' ' 

Walter  said  the  same  rate  of  increase  throughout 
Jefferson  County  would  make  Fremont's  majority  four 
thousand. 

"Yes,  but  you  see,  Walter,"  replied  Mr.  Wagner, 
smiling,  "your  majority  in  this  township  has  already 
fallen  below  3'our  expectations.  If  Buchanan  carries 
the  States  he  is  confidently  expected  to,  his  majority  in 
the  electoral  college  will  be  quite  sufficient." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Graham,  "good  political  manage- 
ment and  manipulations  may  have  pulled  you  through, 
but  Buchanan's  majority  on  the  popular  vote,  if  he  has 
any,  maj^  be  very  small.  It  is  a  great  revolution  of  senti- 
ment since  four  years  ago.  On  the  whole,  I  am  greatly 
encouraged.  I  have  not  yet  abandoned  the  idea  that 
Kansas  may  yet  get  in  as  a  free  State." 

"  I  think  you  are  a  little  severe  on  us,  Mr.  Graham," 
rejoined  Mr.  Wagner,  "by  inferring  that  the  election 
of  Buchanan  jeopardizes  freedom  in  Kansas.  If  I  were 
in  Kansas  to-day,  I  would  vote  for  freedom  there  as 
much  as  you  would.  We  simply  ask  for  the  people  of 
Kansas  the  privilege,  however,  of  deciding  it  for  them- 
selves. ' ' 

' '  The  people  of  Kansas  do  not  need  any  privilege  to 


I 


vSOME   SLIGHT   BACK-SETS.  53 

make  slaves  of  themselves,"  said  Mr.  Graham,  "  the}' 
already  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  liberty.  You  confer  no 
favor  upon  a  community,  already  secure  ir  freedom,'  to 
give  it  the  power  of  self-destruction.'  That,  I  believe, 
is  about  the  way  Seward  puts  the  question  ;  and,  be- 
sides, another  thing  you  overlook,  Mr.  Wagner,  you 
say  that  if  3'ou  were  in  Kansas  you  would  vote  for  a 
free  State  constitution,  but,  let  me  remind  you  of  this 
— there  would  be  a  great  effort  made  to  prevent  you 
from  living  there  at  all,  for  the  simple  rea.son  that  you 
would  vote  that  way." 

"Ah!  you  state  the  case  a  little  strongly.  You  peo- 
ple are  unduly  alarmed,  I  think,"  was  Mr.  Wagner's 
repl3^ 

Walter  here  interposed,  by  saying,  "But,  father,  do 
I  understand  you  concede  the  election  of  Buchanan  ?' ' 

"  No,  I  don't  know  that  I  actually  concede  it,"  said 
his  father,  .slowly;  "  I  don't  know  that  I  shall  do  that 
until  I  have  to.  Of  course,  it  is  possible  I  shall  have 
to." 

Walter  did  not  like  the  look  and  expression  that 
accompanied  these  words.  He  started  off  to  school, 
not  in  the  high  glee  he  had  expected.  He  felt  premo- 
nitions of  a  slightset-back  in  store  for  him,  in  fact,  he 
was  not  sure  that  he  had  not  already  experienced  it. 

When  the  noon  hour  arrived,  the  boys  rushed  out  to 
meet  the  train,  just  arrived  from  Mansdale.  Sam.  Blair, 
the  engineer,  who  had  commanded  the  little  "Andy 
Jack.son  "  (and  who,  during  the  years  of  construction, 
had  become  quite  well  acquainted  with  the  boys), 
leaned  out  over  the  cab  of  a  large  engine,  called  the 
"  Kansas,"  and  gave  a  friendly  wave  of  the  hand 
toward  them. 


54  WALTKR   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"  Hello,  Sam.,  what  is  the  news  from  the  election  ?" 
cried  Walter. 

"Oh,  Bnchanan  is  elected,"  said  Sam,  "you  are 
gone  up. ' ' 

"  Oh,  he  is  a  Democrat,  aiu^how,"  said  Tom  Swave; 
"  he  is  only  trying  to  stuff  us." 

The  boys  ran  on  down  the  road  to  meet  'Squire 
Bowers,  coming  up  with  the  morning  paper,  who  told 
them  that  Fremont  had  carried  all  New  England,  New 
York,  and,  in  short,  eleven  States  were  counted  on  as 
certain  for  him,  making  his  electoral  vote  one  hundred 
and  fourteen.  Walter  had,  by  this  time,  so  far  recovered 
his  head  as  to  observe  that,  at  no  time  had  he  said  dis- 
tinctly that  Fremont  was  elected.  Maryland  had  gone 
for  Filmore,  he  reasoned,  but  that  still  would  not  throw 
the  election  to  the  House.  Buchanan  would  yet  have 
174  electors.  He  had  it  all  figured  up  as  accurately  as 
the  chairman  of  either  national  committee.  As  he  looked 
into  these  figures  all  afternoon  and  evening,  he  was 
more  convinced  than  ever  that  he  had  been  vanquished. 
He  was  quite  sure  of  it  the  next  evening  when  Long's 
boys,  hallooed  to  him,  as  they  pa.ssed  by  with  the 
butcher  cart,  "  Come  down  here,  Walt.,  we  have  a  Salt 
River  ticket  for  you."  And  when  Pat.  McKnight  (the 
son  of  the  Irishman  who  lived  in  his  father's  tenement 
house,  and  who  had  just  polled  his  first  vote  for  Bu- 
chanan), answered  back,  "He  is  all  wilted  up,  he  is 
all  wilted  up,  he  has  not  got  strength  to  come  after 
it."  Walter  contented  himself  for  a  reply  with  a  gruff, 
good-natured,  "Oh,  dry  up,  won't  you?" 

But  time  seems  to  produce  a  recovery  from  the  se- 
verest shocks.  Before  the  next  week  had  passed  away, 
Walter  found  the  men  of  the  neighborhood,  who  had 


SOME   SUGHT   BACK-SET.S.  55 

cast  their  fortunes  with  the  new  part}-,  take  about  the 
same  view  of  it  as  his  father.  Instead  of  being  dis- 
couraged they  were  rather  astonished  at  the  nearness  of 
their  victory.  The  Tribune  upheld  their  faith  in  pretty 
much  the  same  strain.  It  said,  that  "  no  great  revolu- 
tion had  been  successful  in  its  first  assault.  Bunker 
Hill  was  a  failure,  but  Yorktown  followed  in  due  time." 
It  gave  an  account  of  a  delegation  which  had  marched 
in  procession  to  the  house  of  Gen.  Fremont,  to  sing 
to  him  a  song  of  condolence,  of  which  the  following 
was  the  chorus  : 

"If  months  have  well  nigh  won  the  field. 
What  may  not  four  years  do  ?" 

This  seemed  to  be  somewhat  of  a  balm  to  Walter's 
sorrowing  spirit,  as  he  sang  the  words  on  the  play- 
ground for  the  benefit  of  his  fellow  school-mates,  not, 
however,  eliciting  the  same  favorable  comments  on  his 
musical  talents  that  he  had  in  man}'  other  things.  Thus 
the  senior  portion  of  the  people  in  and  about  the  now 
thriving  little  village  of  Shocktown  settled  down  to 
business,  and  left  politics  for  a  brief  period,  at  least, 
drop  out  of  their  minds.  It  received,  however,  occa- 
sional renewals  and  spasmodic  outbreaks  at  the  school, 
even  running  pretty  far  into  the  winter,  when  the  snow- 
balling matches  sometimes  took  sides  upon  that  basis. 

In  fact,  I  have  often  noticed,  it  takes  a  presidential 
campaign  longer  to  pass  off  at  a  country  public  school 
than  in  an}-  other  work-shop  of  our  country.  That 
nursery  of  future  statesmen,  from  whence  come  those 
luminaries  who  shall  be  able  to  take  charge  of  their 
respective  townships  and  counties,  wards  and  cities, 
with  becoming  moderation  and  dignity,  up  to  the 
one  who  shall  have  the  fortune  or  misfortune  to  plant 


56  WALTER   GRAHAM,    vSTATESMAN. 

his  feet  firmh'  upon  the  capitol  at  Washington,  and 
hold  in  his  hand  a  telescope,  which  brings  within 
the  range  of  his  vision  the  White  House  at  the  other 
end  of  Pennsylvania  Avenue.  I  know  that  brother 
Shiple}'  asks,  what  is  the  use  of  always  talking  about 
the  little  school-house  on  the  hill-side  being  the 
safet}^  of  our  country,  when  the  saloon  is  turning 
out  Michael  Mahoolcys  at  such  a  rapid  rate?  While 
candor  compels  me  to  admit  that  his  question  is  worthy 
of  pondering  and  considering,  somehow  I  am  yet 
among  those  who  prefer  to  pin  their  faith  to  the  little 
school-house  rather  than  surrender  to  the  saloon.  Not 
that  any  one  could  pretend  to  claim  that  all  who 
graduate  at  the  former  are  worthy  of  putting  on  the 
robes  of  angels ;  but,  because  at  that  stage  the  mind  is 
most  plastic,  second  onl}'  in  pliabilit}^  to  the  period  at 
which  it  was  rocked  on  its  mother's  knee,  and  because 
it  imbibes  there,  as  no  where  else,  the  true  conceptions 
of  American  democracy.  Academies,  normal  schools, 
colleges  and  universities  may  increase  the  store  of 
.secular  knowledge,  but  the  germ  that  innoculates  the 
plant  and  gives  the  flavor  to  the  fruit  may  have  been 
inserted  long  before  the  student  crosses  their  threshold. 
The  air  of  seclusion  and  self-adulation,  which  some- 
times hangs  around  these  institutions,  is  more  propitious 
to  aristocrats  than  democrats.  It  sometimes  happens, 
indeed,  that  not  even  a  diploma  from  Yale  prevents  the 
bearer  from  graduating  afterwards  at  the  saloon ;  one 
more  gilded  and  fashionable  than  the  one  at  wdiich 
Michael  Mahooley  graduated,  but  none  the  less  potent 
for  evil.  Is  it  any  wonder  then,  that  the  great  com- 
mon, respectable  ma.s.ses,  who  lie  between  these  two 
extremes,  should  stick  pretty  closely  to  the  little  com- 
mon school? 


SOME  sliCtHT  back-sets.  57 

Hence  it  is,  in  this  little  narrative  of  Walter  Graham, 
wherein  I  pledged  myself  to  withold  nothing,  I  have 
dwelt  thus  long  upon  the  details  of  his  experiences  at 
the  old  stone  school-house  at  Shocktown,  and  can  only 
say,  by  way  of  apology,  that  even  the  one -tenth  has 
not  been  told.  At  this  little  school  he  spent  his  next 
winter,  and  the  one  following,  and  when,  in  the  spring 
of  1858,  in  his  great  eagerness  to  bid  it  a  final  adieu 
and  enroll  his  name  with  the  older  scholars,  already 
gone  before,  at  Professor  Baker's  academy,  Walter  him- 
self was  quite  oblivious  to  the  full  measure  of  what  it 
had  done  for  him.  He  would  remember  with  deep 
gratitude,  of  course,  how  Mr.  Wagner  had  extended 
the  regular  curriculum,  in  order  to  allow  him  and  some 
others  to  master  the  elementary  principles  of  algebra 
and  geometry.  In  fact,  he  could  not  but  feel  he  had 
enjoyed  the  favorable  opinion  of  all  his  teachers. 
There  he  had  enjoyed  the  genial  friendship  of  Tom 
Swave,  whom  he  generally  excelled,  but  who  some- 
times made  a  brilliant  dash  and  excelled  him.  There 
he  had  declaimed  the  fiery  words  of  Patrick  Henr}^ 
of  Pitt  and  of  Webster ;  there  he  had  kissed  little 
Maggie  Bernard  one  day  upon  the  play  ground  ;  there 
it  was  he  afterwards  lived  to  see  her  turn  up  her  little 
mouth  at  him  in  a  pout  and  walk  off  in  the  play  with 
High.  Bowers.  (Oh  Maggie,  you  little  blue- eyed 
Maggie,  how  could  you  toss  your  head  so  defiantly  in 
the  face  of  first  love,  and  break  the  heart  of  our  hero  ?) 
All  these  and  a  thousand  other  recollections  he  would 
take  awa}"  with  him  ;  but  it  was  only  in  after  years, 
when  upon  heights  tempestuous  he  stood,  when  in 
hours  serene  he  meditated,  that  he  fully  comprehended 
how  deeply  they  had  impressed  him.     How  he  cher- 


58  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

ished  the  dear  old  spot,  how  no  subsequent  school  was 
nestled  so  closely  in  his  heart ! 

But  now  it  came  to  pass,  that  Walter  found  himself 
seated,  in  the  November  of  1859,  where  he  had  longed 
to  be,  at  a  desk  in  Professor  Baker's  Academy.  The 
Professor  had  removed  his  school  over  to  the  village 
the  year  before,  and  its  flourishing  condition  now  war- 
ranted him  in  employing  Mr.  Wagner,  who  had  de- 
clined further  employment  in  the  public  school,  to 
assist  him  during  the  winter  months.  Walter  had 
been  detained  from  entering  at  the  opening  of  the  term, 
for  about  a  month,  on  account  of  the  seeding,  the  corn 
cutting,  and  the  rush  of  business  at  the  saw  mill. 

The  morning  he  presented  himself,  the  Professor  re- 
ceived him  kindly,  asked  what  he  would  like  to  study 
this  winter,  and  began  to  look  around  for  a  seat. 
Walter  also  cast  his  ej^es  around  the  room  over  the 
crowd  of  about  thirt}'  or  forty  boys  and  girls,  some  of 
whom  he  had  never  seen  before.  Tom  Swave  he  saw 
sitting  on  a  seat  with  Mart.  Bernard.  His  spirits 
drooped  a  little  at  this,  not  only  because  his  chance  for 
sitting  with  him  himself,  looked  doubtful,  but  because 
he  also  felt  he  would  rather  see  Tom  seated  with  any 
other  boy  than  Mart.  Frank  Swave  was  seated  with 
Henry  Kerr,  the  son  of  an  ordinary  well-to-do  farmer, 
who  lived  two  and  a-half  miles  distant.  Henry  rode 
back  and  forth  each  morning,  except  on  Monday  morn- 
ing, when  he  came  in  the  carriage  and  brought  with 
him  his  sister  x\melia,  who  boarded  with  Walter's 
father  and  taught  the  old  public  school,  being  the  first 
lady  teacher  who  had  filled  that  role  in  the  winter 
season.  High.  Bowers  seemed  to  have  for  his  com- 
panion a  boy  something  younger  than  himself,  an  en- 


SOME   SLIGHT   BACK-SETS.  59 

tire  stranger  to  Walter.  As  they  advanced  slowly  to 
the  rear  of  the  room  they  reached  a  desk  occupied  by 
one  boy  only.  The  Professor  here  took  another  reflec- 
tive glance  over  the  field  and  said  very  kindly,  "I 
guess  Walter  you  may  take  this  seat  here  with  Wil- 
liam Morton.    This  is  Walter  Graham,  William." 

Walter  took  his  seat  rather  demurely,  and  thought  his 
future  seat-mate  looked  the  same  way.  There  was  some- 
thing, however,  rather  natural,  he  thought,  in  the  way 
Will.  Morton  courtesied  to  him  ;  something  that  might 
come  from  natural  kindness  of  heart,  or  from  studied 
urbanity  of  manner,  he  was  not  certain  which.  He 
looked  to  be  about  two  years  older  than  himself,  about 
the  age  of  Mart.  Bernard,  and  might  more  appropriately 
be  seated  with  him,  he  thought,  than  with  me  (his 
mind  already  looking  towards  the  mutual  swap  that 
might  be  effected).  A  second  glance  at  Mr.  Morton 
convinced  him  that  Mr.  Morton  had  been  looking  at 
him.  In  fact,  their  eyes  had  a  short  but  square  contact. 
Walter  did  not  shrink  from  it  as  much  as  might  be  im- 
agined, whether  because  the  countenance  was  actually 
more  approachable  than  he  had  supposed  a  moment  be- 
fore, or  whether  it  was  because  he  had  suddenly  thought 
of  what  his  mother  had  told  him,  that  "  while  he  had 
done  no  wrong,  he  should  shrink  in  the  presence  of  no 
man."  Certain  it  was,  Walter  had  observed  in  these 
stolen  glances  that  young  Morton  wore  fine  clothes,  that 
he  had  a  very  handsome  watch  and  chain,  and,  alto- 
gether, he  was  rather  disposed  to  admit  to  himself  that 
he  was  quite  handsome.  The  thought  occurred  to  him, 
if  it  could  be  possible  that  he  was  the  son  of  the 
wealth}'  Mr.  Morton,  of  Mafsdale,  who  was  engaged  in 
the  grain,  lumber  and  coal  business,   and  who  rumor 


(lO  wIlter  graham,  statesman, 

said  was  a  silent  partner  with  Mart.  Bernard's  father, 
at  Shocktown,  and  the  man  who  he  felt  pretty  sure 
held  a  mortgage  on  his  father's  farm.  A  few  days' 
acquaintance  with  "Will.  Morton,"  as  he  was  called 
by  his  fellow  school-mates,  revealed  the  fact  that  he  was 
a  first  cousin  of  Mart.  Bernard's,  and  it  required  no 
astute  mind  to  observe  that  he  was  to  be  the  central 
figure,  around  which  the  little  aristocracy  of  Shocktown 
Academj'  would  revolve. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  week,  Walter  said,  "  It  is  a 
wonder  you  and  your  cousin  Mart,  don't  sit  together." 

"Oh,  it's  no  difference  how  we  sit,"  replied  Will  ; 
' '  this  is  the  way  the  Professor  arranged  us,  and  let  it 
go." 

"  I  will  ask  if  you  and  Mart,  can't  sit  together,  then, 
I  can  sit  with  Tom,  if  you  prefer,"  replied  Walter,  with 
an  expression  which  easily  told  that  he  was  not  inter- 
ested solely  to  the  comfort  of  Will.  Morton. 

But  the  reply  was,  "  No,  no,  leave  him  alone  where 
he  is,  I  would  just  as  leave  sit  back  here  with  you." 

The  manner  of  this  reply  was  such  also  as  to  make 
Walter  wonder  whether  Will.  Morton  might  have  about 
the  same  opinion  of  Mart.  Bernard  that  he  had,  and  if, 
indeed,  he  might  not  prove  to  be  a  very  agreeable  seat- 
mate,  and  whether  he  might  not  begin  to  feel  compli- 
mented by  the  fact  that  he  had  such  an  accomplished 
and  wealthy  young  gentleman  for  a  companion.  At  all 
events,  the  change  was  not  made  nor  any  further  effort 
to  bring  it  about.  As  time  passed  on,  he  began  to 
feel  not  only  quite  at  ease,  but  quite  attached  to  his 
affluent  friend.  Was  this  making  Tom  a  little  jealous, 
or  was  he  a  little  jealous  of  Tom  ?  Was  he  somewhat 
fearful  that  a  winter's  close  fellowship,  under  Mart.'s 


SOME   SLIGHT    BxVCK-SETS.  61 

influence,  might  make  him  a  little  proud  ?  Would  the 
tendency  be  to  strain  any  relation  existing  between 
them  ?  These  conflicting  emotions  bothered  him  some- 
times more  than  he  would  have  been  willing  to  admit. 
But  yet  he  would  dismiss  them  each  time,  he  reasoned, 
in  full  faith,  that  nothing  could  produce  such  a  tension 
on  the  cord  that  bound  him  and  his  life-long  friend  to- 
gether as  to  cause  it  to  break.  Besides,  had  not  Tom 
been  placed  there  through  no  choice  of  his  ?  He  would 
naturall}^  have  a  straight  path  to  walk,  but  Tom  always 
had  great  tact  and  could  bring  things  out  right  in  the 
end. 

Things  were  proceeding  thus  when,  one  day  in  De- 
cember, unusually  warm  for  the  time  of  year,  Walter 
was  leaning  forward  with  his  head  resting  between  his 
hands,  his  elbows  on  the  desk,  pretending  to  stud}-  his 
lyatin,  but,  in  reality,  ver\'  nearly  asleep.  Mr.  Wagner 
spoke  up  from  the  other  side  of  the  room,  where  he  had 
been  having  an  arithmetic  class  recite,  "  What  is  the 
matter  with  you,  Walter,  are  you  losing  your  energies  ? 
I  supposed  you  would  have  been  down  in  Virginia  to- 
day, rescuing  old  John  Brown,  rather  than  going  to 
sleep  here  in  school."  "No,  I  found  I  could  not  get 
there  to-day  in  time  to  save  him,  but  we  will  all  go 
down  someday  on  the  same  errand,"  replied  Walter, 
half  asleep,  half  in  humor,  and  altogether  unconscious 
of  the  great  truth  he  had  unwittingly  spoken.  "Let 
him  hang,"  said  High.  Bowers  in  an  audible  whisper. 

Walter  now  aroused  from  his  stupor  and  resumed  his 
studies  but  not  even  the  thrilling  event  of  that  day, 
the  hot  discussions  which  it  gave  rise  to  in  the  literary 
societ}'  which  was  an  appendix  to  the  school ;  the  long 
struggle  for  the  speakership  in  the  House  of  Represen- 


62  WAI.TEK    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

tatives  which  equaled  the  one  of  four  years  before, 
together  with  all  Walter's  natural  inclination  for  the 
political  arena,  could  keep  his  mind  from  digressing 
more  or  less  towards  the  social  side  of  life.  Need  he 
be  ashamed  to  admit  he  thought  that  it  was  sometimes 
pleasant  to  be  in  the  society  of  the  girls,  to  bask  in 
the  favor  of  Will.  Morton,  who  was  so  well  qualified 
to  introduce  him  into  society.  Had  not  even  Caesar 
and  Napoleon  tumbled  to  love  ?  Had  not  Fitz  James 
been  enamored  by  the  beauties  of  the  mountain  maid 
when  all  else  had  failed  to  capture  him  ?  Certainly 
there  was  no  rational  reason  why  he  who  would  soon 
reach  the  mature  age  of  seventeen  should  not  yield  in 
moderation  to  these  inherent  tendencies  of  human 
nature,  even  if  it  did  to  some  extent  retard  his  pro- 
gress with  his  Latin  and  German.  The  evening  he 
spent  at  the  party,  given  by  the  Bernards  on  New 
Year's  night,  was  so  charming  and  so  harmless.  It 
was  a  little  dancing  party,  the  first  of  the  kind  that 
Walter  had  ever  attended.  Will.  Morton  was  master 
of  ceremonies.  He  had  a  couple  of  Marsdale's  young 
ladies  there  to  teach  the  young  lads  and  lassies  of 
Shocktown  the  accomplishments.  Even  Mart,  did  not 
seem  quite  so  stiff  and  formal.  For  a  while,  his  own  head 
seemed  to  whirl  in  the  maze  and  he  almost  forgot  there 
was  such  a  person  as  Tom  Swave,  although  he  was 
actually  present  at  the  time.  He  was  passing  success- 
fully through  his  first  lesson  in  the  plain  quadrille  with 
Amelia  Kerr  as  preceptress,  when  suddenly,  as  he 
swung  on  the  corner,  he  heard  anoise  that  sounded  like 
a  tear.  It  was  Miss  Page's  dress  he  had  set  his  appren- 
tice foot  rather  heavily  upon — the  train  of  her  dress. 
Maggie  Bernard  said  to  him  ironically,"  I  thought  you 


SOME   vSI^IGHT    BACK-SETS.  63 

used  to  be  a  supple  boy,  Walt.  Yoa  ought  to  have 
grace  enough  in  your  movements  to  keep  off  the  ladies' 
dresses."  Walter  was  a  little  confused,  almost  too 
much  so,  to  properly  ask  Miss  Page's  pardon.  Amelia 
Kerr  whispered  in  a  more  benignant  tone,  "Never 
mind,  never  mind,  don't  say  anything  about  it." 
This  little  incident  put  a  slight  chill  upon  his  enthu- 
siasm ;  but,  taken  all  together,  the  evening  had  been  a 
success. 

But  the  winter  was  not  yet  over.  It  was  only  the 
next  week  after  the  party  that  a  new  scholar  knocked 
for  admission  at  the  door  of  Professor  Baker's  Acade- 
my. His  name  was  Patrick  McKnight.  His  social 
standing  and  home  training  had  not  been  as  high  as 
that  of  the  young  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  consti- 
tuted this  little  aristocracy.  Some  were  alarmed  lest 
Patrick's  admission  might  corrupt  their  morals  and 
lower  their  social  standing,  for  sure  he  was  the  same 
Pat.  McKnight,  son  of  old  Jimmy  McKnight,  who 
lived  in  Graham's  tenement  house  ;  the  same  young 
man  who,  three  years  ago,  had  voted,  on  age,  for 
Buchanan.  But  all  the  same.  Professor  Baker  admit- 
ted him.  Pat.  had  received  an  injury  in  the  side,  which 
would  incapacitate  him  from  doing  hard  manual  labor 
during  most  of  the  winter,  or  from  stirring  aroinid  in 
all  kinds  of  weather  at  his  business  of  buying  poultry, 
butter  and  eggs.  What  was  he  to  do,  sit  down  and 
mope  the  winter  away,  loafing  around  the  village  store, 
tavern  or  oyster  saloon  ?  Why  could  not  he  go  to 
school  on  such  days  as  he  felt  able,  and  stir  up  his 
knowledge  in  arithmetic,  of  which,  in  trading,  he  some- 
times felt  his  deficiency.  The  public  school,  of  course, 
would  not  receive  a  man  twenty-four  years  old,  but 


64  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

why  was  not  his  mone}-  as  good  to  Mr.  Baker  as  that 
of  any  one  else?  Thus  reasoned  Pat.,  and  thus  he 
walked  over  to  the  school  one  morning  when  it  was  in 
session,  and  stated  his  case  to  Professor  Baker,  and  the 
latter  commended  his  purpose  and  told  him  he  would 
be  glad  to  render  him  any  assistance  he  could,  and  then 
Professor  Baker  said  to  the  scholars  (who  snickered 
and  laughed  after  Pat.  went  out),  "  What  in  the  world 
are  you  laughing  about,  boys  and  girls  ?  Why,  I  see 
nothing  funn}-.  A  young  man  struggling  to  acquire 
an  education  ;  is  that  what  amuses  you  ?  Why  I  am 
astonished." 

After  these  remaiks,  somewhat  indignantly  uttered 
by  their  teacher,  the  scholars  settled  down,  slightly 
ashamed.  But  Walter  had  time  to  observe  there  was 
more  tittering  on  the  girls'  side  of  the  room  than  on  the 
boys'  side  ;  that  even  Mag.  Bernard  had  given  a  con- 
temptuous smile  ;  that  High.  Bowers'  face  had  at  first 
assumed  a  grin  like  a  hyena's,  but  like  a  whipped 
spaniel's  after  the  Professor's  reprimand.  He  felt  glad 
to  notice  that  neither  of  the  Swave  boys  nor  Henry 
Kerr  showed  any  disrespect.  Even  Mart  Bernard  had 
betrayed  no  emotion,  and  Morton's  subdued  smile  was 
only  that  of  quaint  good  humor.  It  was  several  min- 
utes later,  when  he  reflected  that,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  he  had  involuntarily  said  to  himself,  Mag. 
Bernard,  instead  of  Maggie. 

To  tell  the  truth,  Walter  himself  would  just  as  leave 
Pat.  had  not  come  to  the  school.  He  had  really  no 
special  claims  upon  Walter's  friendship.  He  had  lived 
in  the  neighborhood  a  kind  of  protege  of  his  father's 
family  as  long  as  he  could  remember,  and  he  knew 
that  Pat.  was  rather  fond  of  the  exercise  of  authority, 


SOME   SLIGHT   BACK-SETS.  65 

and  that  in  the  early  years  of  his  existance,  he  was  a 
little  afraid  of  him.  He  could  remember  his  having 
told  him,  at  the  age  of  six,  to  stand  at  the  stable  door 
with  a  corn  stalk  to  keep  the  old  cow  out,  while  he, 
Pat.  chained  the  other  in,  that  the  old  red  cow  shut  her 
eyes  and  cow-like  walked  straight  through  the  door, 
knocking  Walter  down,  but  fortunately  stepping  safely 
over  him.  Pat.  came  running  back,  and,  without  even 
once  commending  him  for  the  gallantry  with  which  he 
had  stood  at  his  post,  began  berating  him  as  a  poor  stick 
for  doing  no  better.  I^ikewise,  Walter  remembered 
that  Pat.  had  once  placed  him,  at  the  age  of  seven,  on 
the  back  of  the  brown  colt  to  ride  across  the  lot  while 
he  led  him  ;  that  the  colt  jumped  and  threw  him  off, 
greatly  alarming  his  mother.  Pat.  denounced  him  as 
a  coward  for  not  getting  on  again,  and  when  Walter 
suggested  to  Pat.  that  he  should  get  on  him.self,  Pat. 
replied  that  he  ' '  reckoned  he  knew  how  to  break  colts, 
don't  we  always  put  boys  on  first?"  But  the.se  and 
many  similar  events  Walter  had  now  forgiven.  He 
had  reached  the  j^ears  when  he  was  at  least  no  longer 
afraid  of  Pat.,  and  his  conclusions  as  to  his  character 
were  probably'  not  very  far  from  the  truth,  that  he  was 
a  young  Scotch-Irishman;  born  on  ship  board,  on  the 
passage  of  his  parents  to  this  country,  possessing  the 
usual  aspirations  of  his  r:ce,  naturallj-  firm  in  his  own 
conceit,  abundantly  able  to  hoe  his  own  row  in  a  free 
countr}',  and  having  in  reality  some  good  traits  of 
character,  and,  as  Walter  reflected  on  his  own  high 
ambition,  it  certainlj^  did  not  lie  in  his  mouth  to  dis- 
parage Pat's  efforts  to  acquire  a  little  more  knowledge 
of  the  common  English  branches. 


66  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

So  it  happened  one  day,  about  the  first  of  March,  that 
the  boys  were  gathered  about  the  porch  of  the  school- 
house  (within  hearing  distance  of  the  girls),  discussing 
the  great  social  event  which  was  to  happen  next  week 
— the  party  at  Bowers'.  High,  said  he  would  do 
everything  in  his  power  to  make  it  a  success,  he  was 
going  to  invite  a  few  outside  people  of  high  social 
standing,  and  then  all  the  scholars.  Walter,  without 
a  moment's  reflection,  asked,  "Are  you  going  to  invite 
Pat.  McKnight?"  High,  turning  around  with  a  con- 
temptuous grin  and  an  air  of  .superiority,  said,  "You 
must  be  getting  out  of  your  head,  Graham,  what  do 
you  mean?  Do  you  hear  Walt.  Graham,  boys,  he 
wants  to  know  if  I  am  going  to  ask  Pat.  McKnight  to 
our  part3^ ' ' 

Several  of  the  boys  gave  a  suppressed  laugh,  and 
Walter  was  not  sure  that  he  understood  the  expression 
on  Morton's  face,  although  High,  had  turned  to  him 
rather  appealingly  as  one  in  authority,  and  hoping  he 
would  immediately  squelch  any  such  sentiment  as  that. 
What  Morton's  real  feelings  were,  whether  simply 
those  of  regret  that  the  issue  had  been  raised,  or  other- 
wise, it  might  be  unsafe  to  say.  At  all  events  he  had 
the  good  sense  to  hold  his  tongue  until  he  heard  what 
Walter  had  to  say  in  his  defense.  Walter's  reply, 
rather  more  apologetic  than  might  have  been  expected, 
was, — "Well  you  said  you  were  going  to  invite  all 
the  scholars,  and  surely  that  includes  Pat." 

Walter  had  seen  his  mistake  in  making  the  original 
inquiry,  but  no  sooner  was  his  an.sw^er  out  than  he  also 
saw  his  mistake  in  making  it  in  a  manner  that  might 
.sound  like  humiliation.     To  High.  Bowers  this  air  only 


SOME  SLIGHT   BACK-SETS.  67 

encouraged  him  to  greater  arrogance.  "Yes,  but  I 
expected  to  confine  it  to  respectable  families.  Of 
course,  you  naturally  feel  a  little  sensitive  on  the 
matter,  as  your  daddie  u.sed  to  be  a  tenement  farmer 
on  our  place,  and,  in  fact,  if  it  had  not  been  for  my 
father  it  is  doubtful  if  he  ever  would  have  got  along." 

Walter  now  advanced  towards  him,  and  placing  his 
clenched  fist  very  near  to  High.'s  face,  said,  in  a  man- 
ner capable  of  no  misunderstanding  this  time,  "  High. 
Bowers,  I  consider  my  father  as  respectable  a  man  as 
yours,  and  myself  as  good  a  man  as  you,  and,  for  that 
matter,  a  blamed  sight  better,  and  if  you  give  me 
another  insinuation  of  that  kind  out  of  your  mouth,  I 
will  smash  it  for  you." 

High's  arrogance  seemed  suddenly  to  have  left  him. 
With  face  about  as  white  as  the  snow,  and  trembling 
like  a  leaf  in  an  Autumn  gale,  he  managed  to  stammer 
out,  "Oh,  well,  you  needn't  get  so  high  about  it,  I 
reckon  a  man  has  a  right  to  invite  whom  he  pleases  to 
his  own  house.  You  need  not  bother  yourself  about  it. 
I  don't  know  as  it  is  so  particular  whether  you  come 
yourself  or  not." 

"You  can  invite  to  your  house  whom  you  please," 
replied  Walter;  "as  for  myself,  I  would  not  go  near 
your  little  stuck-up  party,  but  I  don't  allow  you  or  any 
other  man  to  make  any  insinuations  against  my  parents. 

Several  of  the  boys  here,  including  Will.  Morton, 
said,  "Oh,  well,  say  nothing  more  about  it  one  way 
or  the  other  ;  it's  better  for  all  hands.  Let  us  go  and 
have  a  good  time  at  the  party,  anyhow." 

"You  can  go  on  and  have  all  the  good  time  at  the 
party  you  want,  I  shall  not  bother  it',"  replied  Water. 


fi8  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Although  this  was  ostensibly  the  end  of  this  little 
episode,  Walter  felt  from  this  on  that  he  was  under  a 
kind  of  social  ostracism.  True,  he  had  been  rescued, 
to  some  extent,  by  those  two  sentiments,  so  strong  in 
the  Saxon  race — -in  the  American  Saxon  race — respect 
for  courage  and  love  of  fair  play. 

True,  Will.  Morton  had  said  to  him,  with  apparent 
sincerit)',  "  that  Bovvers  showed  himself  a  coward,  and 
he  should  not  allow  it  to  worry  him  a  particle.  He  is 
evidently  afraid  of  you,  and  wnll  need  you  as  nu:ch  as 
you  will  need  him."' 

Tom  Swave  had  told  two  of  the  boys  that  "  High, 
knew  better  than  to  take  it  up.  Walt,  would  liave 
knocked  the  breath  out  of  him  in  two  minutes."  Wal- 
ter, however,  instinctively  knew  that  the  school, 
especially  the  girls,  did  not  wish  to  be  forced  into  tak- 
ing open  sides  against  'Squire  Bowers'  son,  with  all  his 
influence,  and  thereby  lose  all  the  social  pleasures  they 
had  in  expectancy. 

This  naturally  made  Walter  feel  a  little  isolated.  He 
chafed  under  it  sometimes,  but  he  had  no  notion  of  re- 
treating from  his  position.  He  knew  he  had  been  im- 
prudent in  calling  it  a  "little  stuck-up  party;"  he  knew 
also,  that  he  could  get  his  invitation  to  it  renewed  upon 
the  slightest  hint  to  High.,  but  he  was  not  made  of  that 
kind  of  material.  "This  was  twice,"  he  rea.soned,  "I 
have  put  myself  under  the  ban  by  espousing  the  cau.se 
of  the  despised."  He  would  be  more  prudent  here- 
after. But  he  reflected,  on  the  other  hand,  that  Pat. 
now  seemed  to  worship  at  his  feet,  and  little  darkey 
Ben.  Smith,  had  acted  toward  him,  ever  since  the  day 
he  raised  his  voice  and  arm  in  his  defence,  as  one  who 


SOME    SLIGHT    BACK-SETS.  69 

could  never  pa}'  his  debt  of  gratitude.  Was  it  not  better, 
thought  Walter,  to  stand  firmly  grounded  in  the  favor 
of  these  than  to  be  a  fawning  sycophant  for  the  smiles 
of  the  elite  ?  To  have  some  individualitj'  of  his  own 
rather  than  to  creep  along  one  of  society's  weaklings? 
In  fact,  he  wondered  whether  this  first  little  touch  of 
society  had  already  weakened  his  purposes  and  sapped 
his  energies ;  whether  its  paralyzing  hand  was  not 
already  upon  him,  and  the  blood  coursing  less  freely 
than  usual  through  his  youthful  veins.  He  had  been 
a  fool ;  he  was  born  for  the  tempest  and  not  for  the 
drawing-room.  To  be  sure,  love  was  a  natural  instinct. 
There  was  Amelia  Kerr,  the  beautiful  brunette,  he  had 
every  opportunity  to  behold  her  lovely  character  this 
winter  while  she  boarded  in  the  family.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  a  plain,  honest  farmer,  who  had,  like  his 
father,  a  mortgage  on  his  farm.  She  was  not  such  a 
snob  as  Mag.  Bernard.  Amelia  was  handsome  in  every 
respect,  neither  too  tall  nor  too  short,  neither  too  fat 
nor  too  lean  ;  she  was  endowed  with  natural  intelli- 
gence and  strong  common  sense,  she  had  spoken  to 
him  so  kindly,  almost  affectionatel}',  at  the  party,  about 
his  little  misfortune  with  Miss  Page's  dress.  Her  voice 
was  so  wansome,  her  manner  so  sympathetic.  He  would 
devote  himself  exclusively  to  her  and  to  his  studies 
from  this  out.  True,  she  was  six  years  his  senior,  but 
that  was  not  much.  Had  he  not  heard  his  own  mother 
say,  "  It  was  luck  to  marry  a  girl  older  than  yourself." 
And  was  not  Napoleon  much  3'ounger  than  Jo.sephine  ? 
He  could  easily  afford  to  wait,  and  was  she  not  quite 
willing,  too  ?  He  would  now  plunge  into  his  studies 
with   that   zeal    and   continuitv    of    which    he    knew 


70  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN, 

he  was  capable.  In  the  four  weeks  that  yet  re- 
mained, he  would  wrench  victory  from  defeat.  He 
would  yet  take  the  honors  of  liis  class  at  the  approach- 
ing exhibition  ;  he  would  call  a  halt  upon  the  ambition 
of  his  friend,  Tom  Swavc. 

But  already  the  law  of  retribution  had  written  her 
decree.  She  cried,  "Too  late,  too  late,  j'ou  have  wasted 
too  many  hours,  Walter,  dreaming  of  the  waltz,  you 
have  gone  sleighing  too  many  nights  with  father's 
little  bay  mare  and  seal  brown  horse,  you  cannot  pass 
your  friend,  Thomas  Swave,  in  so  .short  a  time.  Na- 
ture has  done  as  much  intellectualh^  for  him  as  she  has 
for  you  ;  and  although  your  mother  was  a  little  afraid 
of  his  companionship,  he  has  really  not  lost  his  head 
this  winter  as  much  as  yourself  He  read  your  pur- 
pose distinctly  and  resolved  quietl}-  to  give  you  a 
slight  set-back.  He  would  have  trembled  for  the  re- 
sult if  you  had  formed  your  resolution  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  term,  Init  at  present  he  is  confi- 
dent of  success." 

Yes,  Walter,  you  were  destined  to  stand  on  the  plat- 
form on  commencement  day  and  act  a  minor  part, 
while  Tom.  carried  off  the  applause  of  the  village 
denizens  which  you  knew  you  could  have  had.  Hu- 
miliated, defeated  in  the  very  field  in  which  abov^e  all 
others  you  wished  to  succeed  !  It  was  enough  to  pro- 
duce remorse.  Justice  requires  it  to  be  said  of  you, 
however,  that  since  it  had  to  be  so,  you  felt  glad  for 
Tom  ;  rather  it  were  he  than  any  other  boy.  And  he 
was  really  glad  that  Henr}^  Kerr,  of  the  A  class,  was 
valedictorian. 

Walter,  however,  would  take  with  him  some  pleasant 


SOME    SLIGHT    BACK-SETS,  71 

memories  of  the  winter,  chief  of  which  was  that  he  had 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Will.  Morton,  no  longer  doubt- 
ing the  genuineness  of  his  friendship.  He  had  said  to 
him  so  often,  even  after  the  altercation  with  High 
Bowers,  many  little  complimentary  things,  such  as 
"You  are  a  darling,  Graham;"  "You  and  I  are 
chums ;  "  "  You  are  a  bo}^  of  mine  ;  "  "  You  have  got 
true  grit,  courage,  both  moral  and  ph5'Sical."  "You 
are  going  with  me  to  college  next  year.  While  I  Was 
there  last  3'ear,  before  I  got  sick,  there  were  plenty  of 
boys  in  the  Freshman  class  that  did  not  know  half  as 
much  as  you." 

This  last  remark  had  so  filled  Walter's  mind  that  he 
proposed  it  to  his  father,  but  to  receive  the  reply,  "No, 
you  cannot  go  to  college  next  year  with  Will.  Morton. 
Even  if  I  were  able  to  give  you  a  college  course,  I 
would  not  wish  you  to  go  now  with  him,  not  that  I 
think  him  a  badly  disposed  boy,  but  because  he  would 
have  wealthy  associates  and  companions,  with  habits 
of  extravagance,  which  3'ou  could  not  pretend  to  keep 
up  with.  It  would  only  disqualify  your  mind  for 
study  and  increase  his  influence  over  you  proportion- 
ately in  that  he  would  mould  you  about  as  he  pleased." 

And  now,  though  the  school  had  been  over  onh' 
three  days,  he  would  have  one  unmixed  pleasure  at 
least  before  he  entered  fairly  upon  the  drudgery  of  the 
spring  work.  He  would  take  Miss  Kerr  over  to  Mars- 
dale  to  the  lecture  next  week.  So  he  went  into  the 
room  that  evening  where  she  was  sitting  all  alone  and 
said,  after  clearing  his  throat  three  times,  "Miss 
Amelia,  if  you  have  no  other  way  to  go  over  to  Mars- 
dale  to  hear  Beecher,  Tuesday  night,  I  will  take  you 
over. ' ' 


72  WATLER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

And  Miss  Amelia,  the  daughter  of  a  plain,  honest 
farmer,  with  an  archness  that  would  have  done  credit 
to  a  French  actress,  with  a  beauty  of  expression  never 
excelled  by  Mary  Queen  of  Scotts,  with  voice  so  win- 
some, with  manner  so  kind,  with  expression  so  S3aiipa- 
thetic,  replied,  "Why,  Walter,  it  is  very  kind  of  you, 
indeed,  but  I  thank  you,  I  have  another  way." 


1 


V 


•\\\ 


''% 


'/r 


'\\'^^y/ 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  DEEP-LAID  SCHEME. 

THE  April  sun  was  sinking  low  ;  a  round  ball  of 
fire  it  seemed  to  be  in  the  western  sky.  The 
bright  streaks  of  red  that  extended  further  up  and 
stretched  along  the  horizon,  presaged,  Aunt  Nancy 
Stoner  said,  "A  coming  dry  spell."  The  two  bay 
mares  which  Walter  Graham  brought  home  from  the 
plow,  stood  at  the  barnyard  gate  and  nodded  their 
heads  with  that  intelligence  which  said  "  don't  be  long 
unreining  us  and  opening  the  way;"  which  being  done, 
they  marched  up  to  the  watering  trough  and  drank 
their  fill.  The  low  neigh  of  the  seal  brown  horse 
greeted  them  as  they  entered  the  stable  door,  as  if  to 
say,  "I  beat  you  home."  The  old  red  oxen  twisted 
their  tails  as  a  sign  of  relief  when  Pat.  McKnight  re- 
leased them  from  their  yoke,  and  shook  their  heads  in 
haughty  defiance  at  the  old  brown  cow  and  spotted 
calf,  which  stood  munching  at  the  crib  they  preferred. 
The  cows  gave  a  suppressed  low  of  discontent  as  they 
peeped  over  the  barnj^ard  wall  and  through  the  gate  to 
snuff  the  first  odor  of  the  grass  now  sipping  the  even- 
ing dew  and  painting  the  meadow  with  deep  rich 
green.  The  5^earling  colt  with  steel  gray  coat  had 
jumped  from  the  lot  into  the  young  orchard  where  little 
Joe  was  driving  it  out  before  it  should  brake  down  any 
of  the  trees.  The  shepherd  dbg  leaped  over  the  fence 
to  join  in  the  task,  but  devoted  more  time  to  rearing 
4 


74  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

up  on  Joe,  whom  he  had  not  seen  all  day,  than  in  help- 
ing with  the  work.  The  cat,  with  .sentinel  eye,  sat  at 
the  rail  pile  near  the  pig  pen  ready  to  make  that  spring 
so  fatal  for  the  next  mouse  that  should  expose  itself 
outside  their  protection.  The  pigs  grunted  out  their 
ease  inside  the  sty,  and  increased  it  to  a  more  impetu- 
ous squeal  as  the}-  heard  approaching  footsteps  that 
indicated  slop  and  corn.  The  turkey  gobbler  strutted 
with  majestic  tread  as  he  escorted  the  brown  hen  home 
from  the  place  where  she  had  secreted  the  germ  of  her 
next  3'ear's  progeny'.  Mrs.  Graham  had  just  closed 
the  coop  on  the  dominica  hen  with  her  brood  of  ten, 
the  first  of  the  season.  Mary  and  Sue  and  the  hired 
girl  had  just  gone  down  to  the  barn  with  pails  on  their 
arms  to  do  the  milking.  L,ittle  Beckie  Miller  who  had 
been  over  to  spend  the  afternoon  had  bid  them  good- 
bye at  the  end  of  the  path  and  ran  on  to  her  home  in 
the  village.  The  masons  who  had  been  laying  the 
foundation  wall  for  the  much-talked  of  grist  mill,  had 
laid  up  their  tools,  drawn  off  their  overalls  and  sur- 
veyed their  week's  work.  Old  Zebediah  Monks  and 
his  nephew,  Ben.  Smith,  had  left  the  stone  quarry 
and  were  walking  down  across  the  meadow^  to  their 
humble  abode,  thinking  of  "The  Cotter's  Saturday 
Night."  Jacob  Graham  had  adjusted  a  log  on  the  skids 
all  ready  to  start  the  saw  on  Monday  morning,  and 
walked  up  to  the  house  for  a  social  chat  with  Mr.  Wil- 
liamson, who  had  driven  over  to  the  village  and  left 
Mrs.  Williamson  with  Mrs.  Graham  until  he  came  back. 
Mrs.  Graham  was  so  glad  to  see  her,  and  Mrs.  Wil- 
liamson had  "just  told  John  that  he  need  not  think 
he  was  going  to  drive  out  this  lovely  evening  without 
taking  her  along."   And  Mrs.  Graham  said,"  I  should 


A  DEEP-LAID  SCHEME.  75 

think  so.  Has  it  not  been  a  lovely  day  ?  The  whole 
country  is  beginning  to  look  green."  And  Mrs.  Wil- 
liamson said  "Oh,  hasn't  it;  perfectly  invigorating. 
How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Graham?"  turning  to  speak  to 
him  as  he  came  up.  "John  will  stop  as  he  comes  back 
from  the  office.     I  know  he  longs  for  a  talk  with  5^ou." 

' '  I  assure  you  he  can  not  be  more  anxious  than 
Jacob  is  for  one  with  him,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  "they 
will  have  so  much  to  discuss  now." 

Walter  fed  the  horses,  finished  up  the  chores  while 
the  sun  sank  slowly  out  of  sight,  and  wended  his  way 
to  the  house  to  join  this  peaceful  circle.  The  whole 
community  around  the  little  village  of  Shocktown  was 
sinking  down  to  quiet  rest.  Dame  Nature  seemed  at 
ease  along  the  little  village  of  the  Silver,  through 
which  its  placid  waters  flowed. 

"All  seemed  as  silent  and  as  still, 
As  the  mist  slumbering  on  yonder  hills." 

But  within  the  broad  limits  of  the  United  States 
there  was,  at  this  moment,  another  spot  where  the 
w^aters  were  not  so  calm,  where  the  scene  was  more 
turbulent,  where  the  political  pot  was  boiling  with  the 
greatest  intensity  and  being  watched  with  suppressed 
anxiety.  The  Charleston  convention  had  been  in  ses- 
sion a  week  and  no  report  from  the  committee  on  reso- 
lutions. The  debates  had  been  heated  and  betokened 
a  coming  rupture  in  the  Democratic  camp.  It  was  the 
crucial  test  as  to  whether  the  so-called  principle  of 
' '  popular  sovereignty  "  or  "  squatter  sovereignty, "  as  it 
was  called,  could  in  any  way  be  juggled  up  to  satisfy 
the  South,  or  whether  the  followers  of  Douglas  would 
yield  the  entire  demand  of  the  Slave  Oligarchy,  "  that 
slavery  existed  already  in  the  territories,  that  they  had 


76  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

a  natural  right  to  move  there  with  their  property  as 
had  any  other  citizen;"  that  there  was  no  "popular 
sovereignty  "  about  it,  that  such  had  been  the  judicial 
utterance  of  the  Supreme  Court  in  the  "  Dred  Scott 
Decision,"  that  there  was  no  power  in  the  constitution 
to  prevent  it.  Each  speech  seemed  to  drive  the  wedge 
a  little  farther  in. 

Mr.  Williamson  said  "  he  believed  now  that  the  con- 
vention would  split.  Douglas  seems  to  have  too 
strong  a  following  to  surrender,  not  that  he  has  any 
actual  principles  or  convictions  on  the  matter,  but 
simply  because  any  other  course  would  be  fatal  to  him 
now.  As  for  the  South,  I  never  for  a  moment  sup- 
posed that  they  would  abandon  one  inch  of  their 
ground ;  the}'  have  a  purpose  and  are  standing  on  a 
principle.  They  have  not  manipulated  all  these  years 
to  have  the  '  Dred  Scott  Decision '  promulgated  and 
then  not  avail  themselves  of  it." 

"  I  suppose,"  replied  Mr.  Graham,  "  that  we  under- 
stand the  '  popular  sovereignty  '  doctrine  was  only  a 
pretext  to  their  first  step  in  nationalizing  slavery.  But 
does  not  that  rather  show  that  they  saw  the  necessity 
of  some  pretext  before  they  could  expect  the  hearty 
cooperation  of  even  the  Northern  Democrats  in  their 
ultimate  purpose  ?  And  don't  you  suppose  to-daj^  Mr. 
Williamson,  that  Douglas  in  his  heart  prefers  Kansas 
to  be  a  free  State?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  rejoined  Mr.  Williamson,  "that  I 
am  bound  to  suppose  even  that  much  for  him.  I  think 
the  best  thing  for  Republicans  to  do  is  to  simply  take 
him  at  his  word,  that  'he  does  not  care  a  particle 
whether  slavery  is  voted  up  or  voted  down,'  he  has 
made  that  declaration  so  often  that  he  and  his  follow- 


A  DKEP-LAID  SCHEME.  77 

&rs  need  not  complain  now  when  we  charge  him  with 
having  no  convictions  whatever  on  the  real  question  at 
issue,  namely,  the  admission  or  non-admission  of  sla- 
very into  all  the  territories.  Lincoln  drove  him  pretty 
hard  to  the  wall  on  that  simple  position,  you  will  re- 
member, in  his  debate,  and  besides,  if  j-ou  look  at  the 
question  in  the  light  of  what  has  followed,  and  by  the 
very  speeches  that  the  Southern  leaders  are  making 
now  in  that  convention  and  in  Congress,  it  appears  they 
never  did  put  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise  on 
any  other  principle  than  the  one  for  which  they  now  con- 
tend (their  constitutional  right  to  take  their  .slaves  into 
the  territories).  In  fact,  as  I  have  already  said,  they 
had  a  purpose  from  the  start  and  never  had  many 
pretexts  about  it.  It  was  Douglas  himself  who  saw  the 
necessity  of  some  subterfuge  to  excu.se  him.self  before 
his  northern  constituents." 

"All  very  true,"  replied  Mr.  Graham,  "yet  some- 
times when  I  reflect  what  a  narrow  escape  Kansas 
made  from  the  L,ecompton  conspiracy,  that  a  change 
of  three  votes  in  the  House  would  have  launched  her 
into  the  Union  a  slave  State,  and  crammed  the  institu- 
tion of  slaver}'  down  their  throats  against  their  will, 
I  cannot  help  but  feel  that  the  friends  of  freedom  owe 
him  some  little  gratitude."  "Just  so,"  said  Mr.  Wil- 
liamson, "It  is  a  perfectly  natural  feeling,  but  it  is 
rather  an  exemplification  of  the  truth  of  the  saying 
that  '  God  sometimes  works  through  m5'sterious  agen- 
cies.' It  is  that  feeling  which  threatens  Republi- 
canism to-day.  The  great  danger  is  that  the  party 
may  give  way  too  much  to  that  sentiment.  We  must 
win  on  a  square  issue  or  we  cannot  win  at  all.  We 
were  in  great  peril  from  that  situation  in  Illinois  two 


/8  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

years  ago,  when  so  many  Republicans  were  inclined  to 
let  Douglas  have  his  seat  in  the  Senate  rather  than 
raise  a  contest.  I  for  one  am  much  better  satisfied  that 
Lincoln  was  defeated  than  that  he  should  hav^e  lowered 
his  flag  and  succeeded.  Then,  besides,  if  Douglas 
really  has  his  face  turned  this  way  from  anything 
that  has  its  foundation  in  conscience,  he  will  get  to  us 
in  due  time  ;  we  need  not  go  to  him." 

"Yes,  by  the  way,  I  see  Illinois  intends  to  press 
lyincoln's  claims  before  the  Chicago  Convention  for 
President,"  said  Mr.  Graham. 

"  Well,  how  would  it  suit  you?  How  does  it  feel 
down  here?"  queried  Mr.  Williamson,  laying  his  hand 
upon  his  heart. 

"Well,  I  can't  say,"  rejoined  Mr.  Graham,  "that  I 
am  greatly  disturbed  imder  the  thought.  Of  course 
we  would  have  to  defend  against  the  charge  of  nomi- 
nating a  man  comparatively  unknown  to  the  part}',  but 
that  cuts  both  ways  sometimes  ;  you  gain  as  much  by 
that  as  you  lose.  Sometimes  a  man  with  too  much 
reputation  has  some  very  vulnerable  points." 

Walter,  who  had  been  an  attentive  listener  up  to 
this  time,  now  interposed  by  saying,  "I  am  for  Sew- 
ard ;  no  man  can  say  that  he  has  not  the  brains.  Pro- 
fessor Baker  saj^s  the  rhetoric  of  Seward  is  almost 
faultless,  and  that  there  is  a  logic  and  coherency  in  his 
positions  never  equalled  by  any  other  man  ever  in 
Congress." 

"Well,  Walter,"  replied  Mr.  Williamson,  "that 
may  all  be  true  ;  I  shall  not  quarrel  with  Professor  Baker 
about  that.  I  suppose  the  Professor  also  knows  that 
many  people  consider  the  diction,  coherency  and  logic 
of  Lord  Bacon  the  finest  in  the  English  language,  and 


A   DEEP-LAID   SCHEME.  79 

yet  tradition,  if  not  history,  says  he  could  be  bought 
for  a  five  dollar  bill." 

"  That's  a  little  rough  on  Seward,"  rejoined  Walter  ; 
"pretty  near  as  bad  as  I  heard  a  man  say  of  I^incoln 
the  other  day — 'if  the  people  of  Illinois  consider  this 
man  lyincoln  a  great  man,  I  would  like  to  know  what 
their  ideas  are  of  an  ordinary  one. '  ' ' 

"That  man,"  said  Mr.  Williamson,  "had  probably 
never  read  a  sentence  or  an  utterance  of  Lincoln's. 
For  my  part,  I  must  say  that  as  much  as  I  read  of  the 
debates  between  him  and  Douglas,  as  they  were  given 
by  the  papers,  and  his  Cooper  Institute  speech,  he  does 
impress  me  as  more  than  an  ordinary  man.  He  has  a 
plain,  direct  way  of  presenting  a  proposition  in  simple 
language  that  goes  direct  to  the  understanding  of  the 
average  mind  ;  and,  while  I  do  not  say  that  Seward 
can  be  bought  for  a  money  consideration,  either  large 
or  small,  it  is  quite  certain  that  his  last  winter's  .speech 
was  something  lower  in  tone  and  quite  ambiguous.  On 
looking  over  the  field  so  far,  I  am  not  certain  the  con- 
vention can  do  better  than  drop  to  Lincoln.  Chase,  to 
be  sure,  has  a  national  reputation,  but,  like  Seward, 
he  has  some  assailable  points.  Cameron  is  urged 
solely  on  the  ground  that  he  is  an  astute  politician. 
As  for  Bates,  he  lives  south  of  Mason  and  Dixon's 
line  ;  that,  to  my  mind,  is  a  serious  objection  to  him, 
no  matter  how  sincere  he  may  imagine  himself  now. 
Viewed  from  every  standpoint  to-night,  I  am  not  cer- 
tain but  it  is  the  best  thing  we  can  do  ;  but  I  suppose 
we  will  not  have  so'  very  long  to  wait.  Time  will  tell 
who  is  to  be  the  man  and  how  he  will  turn  out. ' ' 

And  time  did  tell.  But  two  short  months  elapsed 
when  she  disclosed  the  fact,  at  least  as  to  who  he  was 


80  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

to  be.  Through  the  mist  of  conflicting  interests  and 
personal  ambitions,  the  tall  figure  of  the  Sangamone 
had  been  diml}^  seen  figuring  in  the  background.  The 
Chicago  Convention  had  come  and  gone,  and  after  the 
usual  pulling  of  wires  and  smashing  of  slates,  break- 
ing of  promises  and  making  of  new  ones,  the  cur- 
tain raised  and  there  stood  Abraham  Lincoln.  He 
was  not  very  handsome,  to  be  sure,  buth  is  tall  spare 
form  and  high  cheek  bones  impressed  his  figure  on  the 
mind  from  the  start.  His  mixed  expression  of  kindness 
and  firmness  seemed  to  invite  a  closer  inspection.  His 
part}'  said,  "  Hold  him  up  that  we  may  examine  him." 
His  friends  held  him  up  and  said,  "Judge  and  behold. 
True,  he  has  only  served  one  term  in  Congress,  but 
upon  his  record  in  the  debates  with  Douglas  alone  we 
are  willing  to  stake  his  reputation.  You  shall  learn 
as  we  publish  those  debates  in  full  what  manner  of 
man  he  is ;  of  the  clear  terse  wa}'  with  which,  in 
simple  language,  he  takes  the  wind  out  of  sophistry 
and  subtilty  ;  how  he  lays  bare  the  purposes  of  the 
enemy,  and  tells  in  plain  but  comprehensive  words  the 
great  purpose  for  which  his  party  was  formed." 

Of  all  the  people  in  the  country  who  went  into  that 
examination  of  Lincoln's  character  and  capabilities, 
none  were  more  earnest  than  Walter  Graham.  He  was 
somewhat  disappointed  at  the  failure  of  Seward  to 
secure  the  prize,  but  he  soon  recovered.  He  read  every 
line  and  sentence  of  that  historic  battle  of  words  that 
had  been  fought  in  the  prairie  State  by  the  two  great 
leaders  of  the  common  people.  No  more  effectual 
campaign  document  could  have  been  published  to  in- 
troduce a  candidate  to  his  party.  Walter  soon  found 
his  mind  warming  towards  the  ' '  old  rail  splitter. ' '    He 


A   DEEP-LAID   SCHEME.  81 

felt  primed  for  au  argument  for  a  speech  from  the  stump 
—  he  dreamed,  whether  such  a  thing  were  possible. 
Would  some  opportunity  present  itself?  Sometimes 
there  were  little  local  neighborhood  meetings  when  the 
speaker  disappoints.  He  would  watch  and  keep  his 
eye  open  and  his  mind  prepared.  The  summer  was 
passing  pleasantl}^  along  with  ever}"  indication  of  suc- 
cess, especiall}'  after  the  adjourned  Democratic  Con- 
vention, at  Baltimore,  had  actually  dissolved  and  placed 
two  candidates  in  the  field.  In  his  happiest  mood,  one 
nice  Saturda}'  afternoon,  Walter  asked  his  parents  if  he 
might  have  Simon,  the  brown  horse,  and  he  and  Tom 
Swave  drive  over  to  Kerr's  to  see  Henry.  His  mother 
said,  "Why  could  you  not  hitch  to  the  big  carriage 
and  take  the  girls  along  ?  No  doubt  they  would  like 
to  take  a  drive  and  see  Amelia." 

The  bo3'S  both  thought  this  a  capital  suggestion  and 
accordingly  they  went.  Simon  looked  his  best,  his 
coat  looked  so  glossy.  The  girls  seemed  so  glad  and 
the  bo3'S  were  so  agreeable.  They  arrived  at  Kerr's  to 
find  everybody  in  the  same  sweet  temper.  Henrj'  and 
his  father  were  sitting  out  on  the  porch  reading  the 
papers.  Miss  Amelia  received  them  so  cordially,  her 
voice  was  so  winsome,  her  manner  so  kind,  her  expres- 
sion so  sympathetic.  Walter  thought  he  could  see  in 
a  glance  she  would  have  much  preferred  to  have  gone 
with  him  to  the  lecture ;  that  it  was  only  because  she 
could  not  help  herself  that  she  declined  his  invitation. 
Certainly,  old  Cain  must  be  a  great  annoyance  to  her. 
What  did  she  want  with  an  old  bald-headed  widower 
of  thirty-seven  ?  True,  he  and  his  brother,  the  doctor, 
owned  a  farm  between  them,  but  a  girl  of  her  qualifi- 
cations and  graces  would  waver  at  no  consideration  of 


I 


oi  WALTER   GRAHAM.    STATESMAN. 

that  kind.  This  instantaneous  reasoning  and  the  satis- 
factory conclusion  to  which  it  brought  him  had  but  a 
short  existence.  It  lasted  only  while  he  passed  from 
the  yard  gate  into  the  house,  where  he  found  "little 
old  baldy  "  sitting  in  the  rocking  chair,  and  rising  to 
shake  hands  with  him  as  Amelia  said  very  kindly, 
"  You  know,  Mr.  Cain."  Then  touching  him  on  the 
arm,  said,  ' '  Walter,  I  wish  to  introduce  you  to  my 
cousin,  Annie  Lesher,  from  Sharwood."  Tom  and  the 
girls  were  introduced  in  turn.  What  Walter  supposed 
were  sound  conclusions  reached  but  a  moment  before, 
were  now  considerably  shaken  at  what  his  eyes  beheld. 
He  wondered  if  Amelia's  tastes  were  so  perverted  after 
all,  and  turned  at  the  same  thought  for  a  second 
glance  at  Miss  Lesher,  to  see  what  kind  of  a  girl  she 
was.  He  saw  she  was  a  spry  looking  blonde,  some- 
thing younger  in  her  appearance  than  Amelia,  a  trifle 
shorter  in  height,  but  a  little  heavier  set,  rather  quick 
and  decisive  in  her  action,  and  lie  thought  perhaps  a 
little  bold. 

As  they  all  walked  in  the  orchard  that  afternoon  and 
strolled  down  by  the  spring-house.  Miss  Lesher  offered 
Walter  her  hand  to  be  helped  over  a  fence,  and  said, 
spryly,  "  Mr.  Graham,  I  have  to  depend  on  you  now 
to  keep  the  snakes  and  the  cows  off.  Mind,  I  am 
afraid."  He  thought,  maybe  she  is  not  bold  after  all. 
I  guess  it  is  her  natural  quick  way.  These  city  girls 
always  seem  a  little  pert.  He  replied,  "  Oh,  there  are 
no  snakes  here  and  the  cows  will  not  hurt  you." 

Amelia  assured  her  she  had  nothing  to  fear  while 
Walter  and  Tom  were  about. 

"  No,  I  suppose  not  ;  I  will  put  my  trust  in  them, 
anyhow,"  replied  Miss  Lesher. 


A  de;kp-laid  scheme.  8'^ 

As  the  little  company  passed  the  afternoon  away  in 
that  easy  and  informal  manner,  incident  only  to  the 
quiet  old  farm  home,  dicussing  the  harvest,  the  crops, 
and  occasionalh'  a  little  of  their  neighbor's  business, 
Walter's  mind,  though  alternating  .  between  Miss 
Amelia  and  Miss  Lesher,  was  entirely  unconscious  of 
the  fact  that  anyone  was  thinking  what  fine,  healthy, 
animated,  vivacious  girls  were  his  two  young  sisters, 
Mary  and  Sue. 

When  they  were  all  .seated  at  the  supper  table  Mr. 
Kerr  inquired  of  the  boys  ' '  how  their  parents  liked  the 
nomination." 

Walter  replied  that  his  father  was  very  well  pleased. 
"  He  thinks,  on  the  whole,  it  was  the  best  nomination 
that  could  have  been  made. ' '  Tom  said  that  ' '  it  suited 
him  first-rate.  Father  says  he  wanted  the  man  we  could 
win  with,  and  he  thinks  we  have  got  him." 

Amelia  said,  "Walter,  it  seems  to  me  we  ought  almost 
to  hear  from  you  this  fall,  before  the  election  is  over. 
You  have  such  a  natural  inclination  for  public  affairs." 

"lyittle  Baldy"  now  spoke  up  with  an  attempt  at 
friendly  humor,  "  We  will  have  to  have  a  grand  rally 
some  night,  I  think,  at  Martin's  Cross  Roads  or  at 
Hornsdale,  in  order  to  give  Young  America  a  chance." 
Walter  smiled  as  best  he  could,  while  Tom  and  Henrj^ 
both  said  "  they  might  do  worse  than  listen  to  a  speech 
from  Walter." 

Walter  was  not  so  infatuated  with  Mr.  Cain,  at  least, 
(whom  he  still  involuntarily  called  in  his  mind  ' '  L,ittle 
Baldy,")  as  to  suppose  he  was  entirely  in  earnest,  but 
he  thought  to  himself  all  the  same,  You  may  not  know 
everything  that  is  going  to  happen  before  this  cam- 
paign is  over. 


84  WALTER   GRAH/vl^^,    STATESMAN. 

As  they  rode  home  that  evening  they  met  High. 
Bowers  and  Ben.  riding  out.  They  stopped  for  a  few 
moments'  talk,  when  High,  said,  "  Well,  how  are  you 
all,  anyhow;  how  are  you  coming  on?  I  don't  see 
much  of  you  this  summer,  Walt." 

Walter  replied  that  he  had  been  pretty  busy;  that.he 
had  not  got  awaj'  much.  High,  threw  out  several 
more  friendly  ejaculations  and  inquiries  and  concluded 
by  asking  the  boys  to  come  and  see  him,  after  which 
they  drove  on.  When  they  had  gone  about  five  hundred 
yards  in  silence,  Walter  turned  to  Tom,  saying,  "Well, 
what  do  you  think  of  the  serpent,  anyhow?" 

Tom's  repl}^  rather  sarcastically  given,  was,  "  Oh, 
you  have  struck  about  the  right  name  ;  his  daddie  is 
going  to  be  a  candidate  for  the  Legislature  this  fall. 
They  will  both  be  crawling  about  like  snakes  from  this 
on.  Still,  it  don't  do  to  say  too  much.  One  thing  is 
certain,  neither  of  them  will  ever  be  hung  for  his 
brains." 

Tom  turned  his  head  back  to  the  girls  and  looked 
approvingly  at  them,  as  he  finished  his  remarks,  and 
ihey  smiled  back  in  return  to  him. 

When  they  arrived  at  home,  the  girls  alighted  at  thie 
house,  and  Tom  went  on  to  the  barn  to  help  Walter 
put  Simon  away.  While  they  were  all  alone,  Walter 
said  to  Tom,  in  a  low  confidential  tone,  "Tom  I  am 
going  to  make  a  Lincoln  speech  this  fall,  if  I  can  get 
the  chance  to  slip  it  in.  Anyway,  if  you  will  never 
let  on,  and  help  to  arrange  it  for  me,  I  will  consider  it 
a  great  favor,  and  you  know  I  will  do  the  same  for  you 
if  you  want  to  make  one. 

Tom  replied  in  the  same  confidential  tone,  that  he 
had  no  ambition  of  the  kind  for  himself.      ' '  But  I  will 


A   DEEP-LAID  SCHEME.  85 

keep  111}'  eye  open  and  do  all  in  my  power,  Walt  ,  to  see 
that  you  get  a  chance  somehow,  and  you  be  prepared 
for  any  emergencies  and  have  a  good  one  ready.  Ot 
course,  if  you  were  only  a  little  older  we  might  work 
it  better." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Walter,  "but  then  you  know 
Randolph  was  so  young  when  he  first  entered  Congress 
that  they  asked  him  if  he  was  of  constitutional  age, 
and  Webster  delivered  a  Fourth  of  July  oration  at  17, 
and  I  am  that  old  now." 

"All  right,"  rejoined  Tom,  "  I  will  do  my  best." 

At  this  the  boys  parted  with  the  warmest  regard  for 
one  another.  Walter  having  considerable  faith  that 
Tom's  great  tact  and  executive  ability  could  bring  it 
about. 

But  July  passed  out.  August  came  and  went  Sep- 
tember, too,  closed  in,  and  no  speech  from  Walter, 
although  it  had  long  been  prepared. 

Again  he  was  seated  comfortably  one  Sunday  after- 
noon in  the  old  sitting  room  at  home,  in  the  early  Octo- 
ber, when  Mr.  Williamson  and  Professor  Baker  had 
dropped  in  for  an  hour's  talk.  Walter  had  given  them 
an  account  of  the  size  and  enthusiasm  of  the  grand 
torch-light  procession  which  he  had  witnessed  at  Shar- 
wood  the  week  before.  He  was  certainly  not  over 
hopeful  now  in  his  cause.  "The  mass  meeting  at 
Mansdale  four  years  ago  sank  into  insignificance  when 
numerically  compared  with  this."  Mr.  Williamson, 
after  hearing  Walter  through  with  his  description,  said 
to  him,  rather  suddenly  changing  the  subject, "  Walter, 
do  you  know  who  lit  every  one  of  those  torches?" 

Walter  replied,  with  an  expression  of  intelligence  in 
his  face  which  told  very  plainly  that  he  understood 


86  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATE.SMAN. 

Mr.  Williamson  had  some  point  to  make  now  in  moral 
philosophy,  though  he  did  not  exactly  foresee  \yhat  it 
was,  answered  with  a  kindly  smile:  "  I  suppose  the 
men  who  carried  them  lit  them  ?" 

"No,"  replied  Mr.  Williamson,  "the  men  who  car- 
ried them  that  night  were  only  the  instruments  who 
went  through  the  mechanical  form  of  applying  the 
match.  They  were  all  lighted  by  William  Lloj-d  Gar- 
rison thirty  years  ago.  We  only  saw  the  blaze  break 
out  last  Thursday  night." 

This  utterance  fell  with  considerable  force  on  the  lit- 
tle circle,  but  it  was  Walter  himself  who  deigned  the 
first  reply,  as  follows:  "  Mr.  Williamson,  most  of  the 
men  who  bore  those  torches  would  rather  have  Garrison 
denounce  them  than  applaud  them." 

"  Your  reply  is  apt  and  well  put,  Walter,"  said  Mr. 
Williamson,  "  but  do  you  suppose  the  men  who  were 
first  moved  b}-  the  truths  of  Christianity  would  not 
have  been  a  little  ashamed  to  acknowledge  Christ  ? 
Would  not  they  rather  have  preferred,  before  the  crowd 
that  he  condemn  them  ?  " 

A  slight  pause  again  followed ;  Professor  Baker 
broke  it  by  quoting  Lowell's  lines  : 

"  Each  great  cause,  God's  new  Messiah 

Offering  each  the  bloom  or  blight. 
Parts  the  goats  upon  the  left  hand 
And  the  sheep  upon  the  right. ' ' 

"Jitst  .SO,  just  so,"  uttered  Mr.  Williamson.  Jacob 
Graham  took  rather  a  square  look  into  the  counte- 
nance of  the  man  who  had  been  such  an  important 
factor  in  bringing  him  to  the  platform  where  he  now 
stood,  and  said,  "Well,  I  think  I  have  heard  you  say 
3'otirself,  Mr.  Williamson,  that  Garrison's  methods  were 


A   DEKP-LAID   SCHEME.  8/ 

not  practical,  that  the}-  would  never  bring  about  the 
abolition  of  slavery."  "  Quite  true,"  rejoined  Mr.  Wil- 
liauLson,  "and  yet  you  must  remember  that  it  is  im- 
practical only  in  the  sense  that  all  great  moral  agencies 
are  impractical  at  fir.st.  Force,  which  after  a  while 
consummates  it,  is  but  the  natural  sequence  You  know 
Christianity  itself  has  been  called  impractical,  and 
Christ  ignored  all  physical  force  for  his  rescue  from  his 
slaj'Crs,  but  centuries  afterwards  hundreds  of  thous- 
ands of  torches  were  lighted  to  rescue  the  soil  his  feet 
had  trodden  from  those  who  had  desecrated  it.  There 
are  men,  you  know,  who  tell  us  to-day  that  Christi- 
anity was  not  established  by  Christ  but  by  the  Kmperor 
Constantine  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  and  yet  don't 
we  know  that  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  came  before 
the  bayonets.  Even  skepticism,  to- day, — all  those  who 
honestly  believe  that  Christ  was  only  a  man,  and  the 
stories  of  his  miracles  only  fables — acknowledges  the 
power  and  potency  of  his  great  moral  or  divine  nature 
over  any  other  example  ever  given  to  man.  For  that 
matter,  all  history  will  illustrate  the  point.  It  was  the 
philosophers  of  Greece  who  melted  down  the  gods  of 
mythology.  They  were  not  known  perhaps  to  a  thous- 
and people  in  their  day.  It  would  be  useless  to 
elaborate.  In  all  cases,  some  great  moral  explainer,  no 
difference  what  the  mould  of  his  mind  or  the  character 
of  his  heart,  has  gone  before  the  convulsion.  Kven 
Voltaire  and  Rosseau  preceded  the  French  Revo- 
lution." 

Another  slight  pause  followed,  after  which  Professor 
Baker  said,  "  Your  conclusions,  Mr.  Williamson,  seem 
to  rest  upon  the  premise  that  Garrison  ts  the  boldest 


88  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

moral  advocate  in  the  country  on  the  question  ;  that 
he  is  really  the  Messiah  of  this  reform." 

"  They  certainly  do,"  replied  Mr.  Williamson,  "  and 
in  that,  am  I  not  certainly  correct  ?  You  can  point  to 
all  the  other  bold  leaders  in  the  cause  of  anti-slavery, 
but  none  have  made  the  absolute  sacrifices  that  he  has. 
None  have  so  completely  put  ever}'  prospect  of  life  be- 
hind them  as  he  has.  Other  men  have  had  the  phj'sical 
courage,  it  is  true,  to  die  for  it,  but  Garrison  is  the  only 
one  who  was  contented  to  live  on  a  crust  of  bread  and 
water  daily,  that  he  might  espouse  his  cause  He  is 
the  only  one  who  says,  with  composure,  after  being 
dragged  by  a  frantic  mob  through  the  streets  of  a  pop- 
ulous city  with  a  halter  around  his  neck,  '  I  will  not 
abate,  I  will  not  take  back  a  single  word,'  No,  sir  ; 
disguise  it  as  we  ma)',  all  other  forms  of  anti-slavery 
admit  of  some  kind  of  temporizing  ;  the  si7ie  qua  non  of 
Abolitionism,  pure  and  unadulterated,  in  this  country 
to-day,  is  Garrisonianism  and  Wm.  Lloyd  Garrison." 

' '  I  thought  John  Brown  stood  for  the  idea  you  have 
been  illustrating,"  said  Walter.  "Did  not  he  die  a 
martyr  and  offer  himself  a  sacrifice  to  the  cause  of  the 
slave?" 

Mr.  Williamson  looked  thoughtful  for  a  moment  and 
then  said  :  "  Walter,  your  questions  strike  close  to  the 
mark,  but  I  can  only  say,  John  Brown  simply  repre- 
sents the  physical  side  of  the  idea.  I  don't  say  that 
John  Brown's  moral  convictions  could  have  been 
deeper  ;  I  only  say  that  all  history  seems  to  show  that 
Garrison  precedes  the  John  Brown,  or  the  greater  con- 
vulsion which  will  follow.  Of  course,  I  see  that  the 
character  of  John  Brown  challenges  the  admiration  of 
the  world,  and  especiall}'  of  flaming  youth  like  yours, 
Walter,  more   than    Garrison's,  but   that  has   always 


A   DEEP-LAID  SCHEME.  89 

been  the  case.  The  world  has  always  paid  greater 
homage  to  physical  courage  than  to  moral.  And  yet, 
in  both  cases,  you  will  observe,  the  party  to  which  we 
belong,  and  which  we  believe  offers  something  prac- 
tical for  the  abolition  of  slavery,  finds  it  necessary  to 
disclaim  any  sympathy  with  either  Brown  or  Garri- 
son." 

"  Do  I  understand  you  to  be  of  the  opinion,"  asked 
Jacob  Graham,  "that  the  slavery  controversy  will  yet 
result  in  a  war  in  this  country  ?" 

"Yes,"  was  Mr.  Williamson's  reply. 

"  When  ?  "  asked  Walter. 

"I  cannot  fix  the  time,"  rejoined  Mr.  Williamson, 
"but  I  have  reached  that  conclusion  ;  the  bitter  ani- 
mosities between  the  two  sections  of  the  country  on 
this  question,  will  end  only  in  war.  No  prophet  on 
either  side  of  this  controversy  is  wise  enough  to  see 
everything.  I  believe  that  Webster  is  right  in  so  far 
in  his  prediction,  that  an}-  attempt  to  break  up  the 
Union  will  produce  a  war,  such  a  war  as  I  will  not  de- 
scribe in  its  two-fold  character,  for  I  believe  the  senti- 
ment for  the  Union,  one  and  inseparable,  is  the  strong- 
est sentiment  in  the  American  people  to-day.  And  I 
am  convinced,  also,  of  the  irreconciliability  of  the  two 
elements.  Therefore  I  believe  war  will  yet  be  the 
sequel ;  when,  I  cannot  tell  ;  Mr.  Garrison  cannot 
tell.  He  told  me  once,  himself,  he  never  expected  to 
live  to  see  slavery  abolished,  nor  was  he  clear  as  to 
how  it  might  be  brought  about ;  he  only  knew  that 
God  reigned,  and  therefore  it  would  go  to  pieces  in 
His  own  good  time  and  in  His  own  good  way.  And 
since  prophesying  is  free  to  all  of  us,  I  will  sa}'  this, 
Walter,  that  although  I  do  not  expect  to  live  to  see  it. 


90  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

if  yoii  live  to  be  as  old  as  I  am,  only  57,  although  I 
have  been  called  old  John  Williamson  for  the  last  fifteen 
years,  you  will  see  a  war  in  this  country,  which  will 
have  its  origin  in  slaver3\"' 

Walter  replied  rather  meditatively,  "Well,  that  seems 
a  great  way  off.  I  will  just  have  forty  years  to  live 
yet." 

The  other  children  smiled  and  Mary  said,  "Walt, 
never  expects  to  live  to  be  that." 

Mrs.  Graham  said,  "  Perhaps  a  kind  Providence  will 
postpone  it  until  after  our  day  and  generation,  but 
that  I  suppose  is  a  selfish  wish." 

In  this  train  of  thought  the  congenial  little  company 
dispersed,  leaving  Walter  to  digest  the  thoughts  he 
had  heard,  to  rehearse  in  his  own  mind  his  Lincoln 
speech,  and  study  out  more  fully  his  deep  laid  plan  to 
get  it  off.  While  Thou,  oh  God,  whose  mercy  had  been 
asked  to  withhold  thy  avenging  hand  until  we,  of  this 
generation  had  been  called  to  rest,  knewest  best  when 
the  debt  of  justice  should  be  paid.  And  it  was  no 
doubt  true  mercy,  to  let  that  little  circle  disperse  that 
golden  Autumn  day,  all  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the 
fact  that  when  next  the}'  should  see  the  leaves  put  on 
those  hues,  the  fiery  flag  of  war  would  be  sweeping 
desolation  over  the  land. 


CHAPTER    VI. 


HO!  FOR  MANSDALE. 


GRAHAM'S  two  mares,  L,ucy  and  Flora,  were  all 
harnessed  and  dressed  in  their  best  regalia,  hitched 
to  Miller's  big  spring  wagon  in  front  of  the  coach  shop, 
ready  to  take  two  of  the  Miller  boys,  Dave  and  Joe, 
Tom  Swave,  Walter  himself,  and  any  other  two  men 
about  the  village  who  had  no  way  to  go  to  the  big 
parade  at  Mansdale  that  night. 

As  the  little  Shocktown  band  pealed  out  the  notes 
of  preparation  summoning  the  delegation  together, 
these  sprightly  bays  turned  their  intelligent  eyes  with 
a  searching  gaze,  their  ears  went  forward  at  the  proper 
inclination,  as  they  waltzed  to  the  measured  sound  of 
drum  and  horn,  and  champed  the  bit  of  impatience  as 
if  to  sa}^,  who  else  of  our  species  can  beat  us  to  Mans- 
dale is  welcome  now  to  try.  The  familiar  voice  and 
hand  of  their  young  master  had  allayed  whatever 
there  was  of  fear  in  their  action  and  changed  it  into 
friendl}^  harmony  with  the  pageant. 

It  was  the  last  week  in  October  and  no  speech  from 
Walter  yet ;  the  cause  had  been  espoused  thus  far 
without  him.  At  all  the  local  meetings  in  the  neigh- 
borhood that  he  had  attended,  which  consisted  of  but 
two,  the  speakers  had  been  perversely  punctual. 
Walter  had  already  been  entered  one  week  aj:  the 
academy,  and  was  seated  this  time  by  the  side  of  Tom 
Swave,  both  of  whom  were  members  of  the  graduating 
class  of  this  institution.     He  had  hoped  that  his  de- 


92  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

liverance  from  the  stump  might  have  been  over  before 
this  event,  as  he  wanted  no  other  absorbing  thought  on 
his  mind  after  he  had  fairly  entered  upon  his  studies  ; 
for  he  had  resolved  this  winter  that  no  divergent 
thoughts  should  draw  him  from  his  purpose,  no  allure- 
ments of  fashion  should  sap  his  energies,  no  girl  should 
fascinate  him.  His  purpose  was  fixed  :  it  was  to  take 
the  honor  of  the  class,  to  deliver  the  valedictory  ad- 
dress, to  receive  for  himself  those  cheers  which  others 
had  received  a  year  ago,  and  which  he  knew  full  well 
he  had  lost  through  his  own  neglect.  If  he  could 
keep  that  resolution  to  the  end,  and  keep  it  all  to  him- 
self, it  meant  simple  victory. 

But  the  boys  drove  to  Mansdale  in  the  greatest  glee. 
Walter  had  wondered  all  afternoon  if  he  would  have 
the  good  luck  to  see  Will.  Morton  there.  He  knew  he 
had  started  for  college  six  weeks  ago,  but  then,  he 
would  be  likely  to  slip  home  occasionally  on  Saturdays  ; 
would  he  not  be  likely  to  do  so  to-night?  Walter 
counted  him  now  as  one  of  his  true  friends.  He  had 
received  a  letter  from  him  during  the  summer  that 
would  have  given  final  confirmation  of  that,  if  final 
confirmation  had  been  necessary.  When  they  arrived 
at  the  borough,  as  the  various  delegations  were  pour- 
ing in  from  the  neighboring  villages,  Walter  searched 
out  a  safe  and  secure  place  to  tie  his  horses,  blanketed 
them,  and  walked  down  the  main  street  of  Mansdale  in 
a  state  of  high  expectancy  and  delight,  which  was 
greatly  quickened  as  he  neared  the  stand  that  had  been 
erected  for  the  speakers,  when  a  friendly  voice  ex- 
claimed, "Halloo,  here,  young  Graham,"  advancing 
and  giving  him  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand,  at  the 
same  time  still  exclaiming,  "  How  are  you,  any  how? 


HO,    FOR   MANSDALE.  93 

You,  old  chum,  I  was  wondering  if  j-ou  would  be  here 
to-night."  Then,  turning  to  speak  to  the  other  boys, 
he  continued,  ' '  Here  is  Tom  Swav^e  and  Dave  Miller 
and  Joe.  Did  you  bring  all  Shocktown  down  with 
you?"  Walter  replied,  "Oh,  we  brought  a  pretty 
good  delegation  down  with  us  ;"  then  turning,  he  intro- 
duced to  Will,  the  two  laboring  men  who  had  come 
with  them.  Will,  shook  hands  with  them  with  the  same 
urbanity  of  manner  he  had  shown  to  all  the  others,  put- 
ting them  at  ease  at  once,  and  almost  making  Walter 
utter  the  thought  in  words,  ' '  Yes,  he  is  the  true  gen- 
tleman of  aristocratic  bearing,  of  democratic  qualities." 
His  manner  was  so  courteous,  so  free,  so  easy,  and  yet 
not  undignified.  As  for  himself,  Walter  thought  he 
could  not  have  wished  a  more  cordial  reception.  He 
thought  Will,  looked  rather  more  handsome  than  ever. 
He  seemed  a  fraction  taller  than  he  did  last  winter, 
but  it  might  be  that  w-as  because  of  his  higher  crowned 
hat  and  the  first  faint  efforts  of  a  goatee. 

Walter  asked  Will,  how  he  was  enjoying  it  at  college. 
Will,  replied,  "Oh,  excellently.  I  ought  to  have  you 
there,  though.  You  would  make  an  excellent  young 
fellow  to  settle  the  bo5^s  who  practice  hazing  on  the 
Freshmen."  "Yes,  I  would  like  to  have  gone," 
replied  Walter, ' '  but  father  and  mother  did  not  see  the 
way  clear.  However,  Tom  and  I  are  back  at  Professor 
Baker's." 

"  Oh,  you  can  learn  just  as  much  there,  if  you  want 
to,"  rejoined  Will.  "Where  a  boy  has  it  in  his  head 
to  do  it,  he  can  qualify  himself  to  enter  any  of  the 
professions  almost,  just  himself,  at  home,  if  he  sets  him- 
self for  it ;  and,  besides.  Professor  Baker  has  had  a 
college  education  ;  he  can  take  you  as  far  as  you  want 
to  so. ' ' 


94  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Walter  replied,  "One  thing  is  certain,  I  am  not 
going  to  waste  as  nuicli  time  as  I  did  last  winter." 

B}^  this  time  they  had  advanced  around  the  open  lot 
up  to  the  end  of  the  hotel,  at  which  the  bar-room  was 
located.  Will,  had  moved  along  as  the  central  figure  in 
the  group,  and  was  also  recognized  now  in  a  very  res- 
pectful way  by  several  other  young  men.  Walter 
noticed  two  of  them  say  something  to  him  rather  confi- 
dentially, at  which  Will,  turned  to  him  and  the  rest  of 
his  vShocktown  friends  and  said  with  his  same  courteous 
manner,  "  Do  you  men  ever  take  anything  to  drink  ?  " 
The  two  men  who  came  with  the  boys  .said  quite  readily 
they  did  not  object  to  something  sometimes.  The  two 
young  men  who  had  spoken  to  Will,  advanced  toward 
the  bar-room,  saying  quite  cleverly,  "Just  bring  your 
friends  in  with  you."  Dave  Miller  followed  Will.,  his 
two  friends  and  the  two  Shocktown  laborers  a  short 
pace  behind,  as  the}-  all  passed  through  the  door,  the 
younger  boys  bringing  up  the  rear. 

Walter  had  hardly  realized  what  had  happened,  ex- 
cept that  he  found  himself  inside  the  bar-room  where 
several  others  were  standing  around,  all  of  whom  seemed 
to  be  on  familiar  terms  with  Will.  Morton,  and  the  bar 
seemed  to  be  doing  a  thriving  business.  He  felt  also- 
while  he  stood  contemplating  some  faces  and  pictures 
on  the  wall,  the  same  friendly  hand  of  Will.'s  touch 
him  on  the  shoulder,  who  said,  half  apologetically, '  'You 
can  take  something  mild,  a  glass  of  mineral  water,  or 
sarsaparilla,  if  you  don't  care  to  take  anything  strong; 
or  if  you  prefer,  3'ou  can  slip  out  here  now  at  the  side 
door,  no  one  will  observe  it. ' '  It  would  bother  Walter 
Graham  to  say  to  this  day  what  reply  he  really  did 
make  to  this  observation  ;  suffice  it  to  sav  that  he  looked 


HO,    FOR    MANSDALE.  95 

at  Tom  Swave,  and  then  at  the  Miller  boys,  and  then 
tried  to  reflect.  As  he  did  this,  he  said  to  himself,  "  J 
have  never  understood  in  all  these  years  that  my  father 
embraced  the  absolute  doctrine  of  total  abstinence, 
although  he  knew  full  well  that  his  father  was  a  very 
temperate  and  exemplary  man  in  all  things,  and  he 
saw  in  the  same  instant  Tom  order  a  glass  of  sarsapa- 
rilla  with  considerable  composure.  He  could  just  fol- 
low suit  ;  but  .somehow,  he  could  not  really  explain 
how,  before  he  knew  what  he  was  doing,  one  of  the 
men  had  poured  out  a  small  quantity  of  brandy  into  a 
glass  and  said,  "  There,  Walter,  you  take  that  much  ; 
that  will  not  hurt  you." 

Walter  felt  himself  involuntarily  raising  it  to  his 
lips  ;  as  he  felt  for  the  first  time  the  first  small  sip,  and 
then  the  second  of  the  burning  fluid  pass  down  his 
throat,  he  withdrew  the  glass  more  resolutely  from  his 
lips,  threw  the  contents  on  the  floor,  laid  the  glass  upon 
the  counter,  and  walked  straight  out  to  see  if  Lucy  and 
Flora  were  standing  all  right.  Will.  Morton  followed 
him  out  and  .said,  "  Walt.,  that  is  right ;  you  and  I  will 
go  around  to  the  stand  now  and  keep  out  of  this 
crowd."  Walter  said,  "Yes,  he  would  meet  him  after 
he  looked  after  his  team."  As  he  did  this  he  found  he 
had  time  for  reflection.  He  began  to  wonder  if  he  had 
really  lowered  himself  in  his  own  estimation.  He  an- 
swered perhaps  truly  enough  to  his  own  conscience,  as 
he  had  done  even  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment, 
that  there  was  nothing  radically  wrong,  in  the  abstract, 
in  taking  stimulants  under  some  peculiar  circum- 
stances, but  he  instinctively  felt  and  knew  that  while 
his  parents  entertained  those  views,  they  would  have 
frowned  wuth  the  greatest  displeasure  at  his  entering  a 
bar-room  on  a  public  occasion  for  the  mere  purpose  of 


96  _  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

being  treated.  As  the  thoughts  flew  thick  and  fast 
through  his  brain,  he  thought  he  understood  more 
clearly  why  his  father  did  not  wish  him  to  go  to  college 
with  Will.  Morton.  He  thought  of  Mr.  William.son's 
disquisitions  about  moral  courage  being  a  higher 
quality  than  physical  ;  his  thoughts  went  back  even  to 
the  day  his  mother  had  spanked  him,  with  the  admoni- 
tion that  unless  he  learned  to  utter  the  little  mono- 
syllable no  he  might  constantly  expect  trouble,  how 
.she  .said  something  else  in  the  same  admonition  about 
his  "  tru.sting  nature."  He  wondered  indeed  which  it 
was  he  had  been  this  time,  a  moral  coward,  or  a  fool. 
His  life  so  far  had  given  .some  evidence  of  possessing 
both  kinds  of  courage  ;  he  had  been  so  told  at  least  by 
the  very  lips  that  now  led  him  to  his  humiliation. 
Peril ajxs  he  thought,  sure  enough,  it  is  the  fool  I  have 
been.  It  was. the  trusting  side  of  his  nature  perhaps 
that  had  got  him  into  the  present  scrape,  for  he  could 
not  have  denied  in  his  soul  that  he  liked  Will.  Morton 
and  had  trusted  him.  He  knew  very  well  that  if  any 
other  of  the  company  had  extended  the  same  invita- 
tion to  imbibe  he  would  have  given  a  prompt  no  ; 
and  yet  what  right  had  he,  even  now,  he  thought,  to 
censure  Will.  Morton?  Had  not  he  shown  him  every 
avenue  of  escr.pe  if  he  did  not  wish  to  drink,  and  had 
not  he  walked  right  into  the  web,  just  like  an  unsus- 
pecting fly?  He  doubted  whether  if  Mart.  Bernard 
had  been  with  them  he  would  have  walked  to  the  bar 
with  the  same  composure  to  be  treated  that  Tom  Swave 
had  exhibited,  and  yet  he  never  did  like  Mart,  and 
always  had  liked  Tom, 

Well    might  Walter  query  to  himself,  "What  kind 
of  paradoxes  are  these  in  our  natures?" 


CHAPTER    VII. 

SHOCK  TO  ivy  S  LAST  RALLY. 

TTTALTER'S  thoughts  were  still  engaged  to  some 
^  ^  extent  on  the  events  of  the  previous  Saturday 
night,  as  he  sat  the  next  Monday  morning  at  his  seat 
with  Tom  Swave,  who  explained,  with  the  air  of  one  of 
great  experience,  how^  a  man  could  best  get  out  of  a 
scrape  of  that  kind  :  "  Just  either  take  something  mild, 
or  else  just  say  you  will  take  a  cigar." 

Walter  replied  that  ' '  The  cigar  would  be  of  no  use  to 
me,  as  you  know." 

Tom  solved  that  difficulty  by  saying,  "  You  can  take 
the  cigar  and  give  it  to  me." 

Walter  shook  his  head  and  said,  "I  have  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  best  way  to  keep  out  of  the 
scrape  is  to  simply  say  no." 

At  this  the  boys  turned  their  conversation  from  this 
theme,  and  directed  it  to  the  coming  event  of  the  next 
Saturday  night,  the  Lincoln  meeting  at  Shocktown. 
Some  reports  had  been  rife  for  the  last  two  or  three 
days,  that  there  w^as  to  be,  or  ought  to  be,  another  rally 
at  Shocktown  before  the  campaign  was  over.  Some 
had  said,  "Oh,  no!  What  is  the  use  in  trying  to 
repeat  a  good  thing  the  second  time.  It  is  always  a 
fizzle."  But  Tom  now  told  Walter,  "Indeed  there  is 
to  be  a  meeting  on  Saturday  night  in  the  hall  (the 
name  which  was  sometimes  given  to  the  upper  part  of 
Miller's  coach  or  wheelwright  shop),  and  two  lawyers 
5 


98  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

from  Sharwood,  Mr.  Button  and  Mr.  Pepper,  are  to  be 
the  .speakers;  there  is  a  bill  in  our  store."  George 
Miller  and  Joe  confirmed  this  by  sa5'ing,  "Yes,  there 
is  going  to  be  a  meeting  in  our  shop.  I  heard  father 
say  so."  Will.  lyOng  said,  "A  heavy  meeting  it  will  be; 
you  had  better  save  your  strength,  boys,  lyincoln  won't 
be  elected."  Jake  Hoover  exclaimed,  "We  are  going 
to  have  a  Douglas  meeting  in  our  smith-shop  the  same 
night."  Walter  said,  "You  need  not  fret  yourself 
about  Lincoln  not  being  elected;  you  will  .see  all  about 
that  next  Tuesday  week." 

As  for  the  coming  meeting  in  Miller's  .shop,  there 
certainly  was  something  a  little  mysterious  connected 
with  it.  A  few  small  posters  had  been  seen  sticking  in 
the  stores  and  on  the  fences,  but  no  one  seemed  to  know 
who  was  responsible  for  it.  Even  Mr.  Williamson  and 
Walter's  father  .said  to  him  the  next  evening,  when  he 
spoke  to  them  of  this  last  grand  rally,  that  they  guessed 
Mr.  Miller  was  just  getting  that  meeting  up  on  his  own 
account  to  amuse  the  boys.  Walter  said,  "  He  could 
not  see  whj^  it  ought  not  be  a  success. ' '  Mr.  William- 
.son  said,  "Well,  I  guess  we  will  have  to  go  over  and 
help  it  along  anyhow." 

When  Saturday'  morning  came,  the  sun  arose  under 
a  heavy  cloud  of  mist,  which  Mrs.  Graham  told  Wal- 
ter she  believed  "  would  end  up  with  a  settled  rain." 
Walter  looked  meditatively  as  he  said,  "  I  don't  know; 
sometimes  it  is  a  good  sign  to  see  the  mist  come  down." 
At  one  o'clock,  when  he  went  over  to  the  village  for 
the  mail,  the  weather  seemed  to  be  struggling  between 
two  opinions,  whether  to  clear  off,  or  to  let  the  clouds 
weep  themselves  dry  in  more  rapid  torrents.  Mr.  Swave 
.said  to  him,  "Well,   Walter,    the   prospect    does  not 


shocktown's  last  rally.  99 

look  very  bright  for  the  meeting;  to-night."  "Oh,  I 
don't  know,"  repHed  Walter,  "it  may  break  away  by 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  The  sun  seems  to  be 
struggling  to  make  its  appearance  at  times."  "Yes, 
but  is  too  late  in  the  day  now,  even  if  it  does  clear  off. 
You  see,  the  speakers  won't  start,"  replied  Mr.  Swave. 

'  'Well,  I  suppose  we  have  to  accept  whatever  comes, ' ' 
rejoined  Walter;  "only  so  there  is  no  shirking  next 
Tuesday  on  account  of  the  weather.  That  will  be  the 
more  important  part,  I  suppose."  "  That  is  the  point, 
that  is  the  point, ' '  said  Mr.  Swave  as  Walter  went  to 
his  home. 

About  half-past  three  o'clock  the  sun  broke  through 
the  clouds  and  patches  of  blue  sk}-  were  seen  all  over 
the  canopy.  The  wind  was  bearing  round  to  the  west, 
giving  unmistakable  evidences  of  a  clear  night.  Walter 
thought  to  himself,  "How  could  it  have  turned  out 
better?  The  people  will  turn  out  now,  but  I  don't 
hardly  believe  the  speakers  will  come." 

After  supper  he  and  his  father  walked  over  to  the 
village.  They  found  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
neighbors  and  the  villagers  gathered  about,  but,  true 
enough,  no  speakers.  Tom  drew  Walter  aside  and 
whispered  to  him,  "  Now  is  your  chance,  Walt.,  there 
is  going  to  be  a  pretty  big  crowd  here  after  awhile,  but 
no  speakers.  I  think  we  will  get  our  work  in  this 
time.     You  are  all  ready,  are  you?" 

Walter  replied,  "  I  guess  I  am.  I  have  had  time 
enough  to  prepare ;  if  I  am  not  ready  now  it  is  a  poor 
show  for  this  campaign."  "All  right,"  said  Tom,  and  in 
due  time  Mr.  Miller  arose  and  said,  "As  there  seems  to 
be  no  particular  programme  for  this  meeting  to-night, 
or  no  particular  person  in  charge  of  affairs,  I  move,  fel- 


100  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

low  citizens,  that  John  Williamson  be  elected  president 
of  the  meeting."  The  motion  was  seconded,  of  course, 
and  dulj'  put  and  carried,  while  Walter  thought  to 
himself  nothing  could  be  more  fortunate. 

Mr.  Williamson  arose  and  advanced  to  the  platform, 
which  consisted  of  a  small  pile  of  six-inch  scantling,  two 
layers  deep,  and  said  he  was  sorr}'  to  be  obliged  to  an- 
nounce that  "  Tiie  speakers  we  had  expected  to  be 
with  us  this  evening  are  not  here,  owing  no  doubt  to 
the  unfavorable  appearance  of  the  weather  during  the 
da}^ ;  but  I  am  gratified  to  see  so  large  a  gathering  of 
the  community  as  this,  at  this  late  hour  of  the  cam- 
paign. It  is  the  little  school-house  meetings,  the  small 
gatherings  like  this,  that  make  converts  after  all.  I 
have  no  extended  remarks  of  my  own  to  make,  but 
there  are,  no  doubt,  those  of  our  neighbors  among  us 
who  might  have  something  to  suggest.  I  observe  we 
have  Professor  Baker  with  us  to-night ;  the  audience  I 
have  no  doubt  will  be  pleased  to  hear  from  him." 

Professor  Baker  arose  with  becoming  modesty,  and 
said  that  he  really  had  nothing  to  suggest  by  way  of  a 
speech.  Indeed  the  role  of  stump  .speaker  was  the 
last  one  he  had  thought  of  assuming,  but  he  agreed 
with  the  president  that  the  little  close,  compact  meeting 
of  the  neighborhood,  was  what  did  the  effective  work, 
perhaps  quite  as  eifectively  as  brass  bands.  He  might 
suggest  perhaps  while  on  his  feet,  that  some  of  the 
younger  men  of  the  community  who  had  proven  them- 
selves rather  creditable  advocates  from  the  lyceum 
platform,  as  he  had  reason  to  know,  might  be  induced 
to  say  something. 

Tom  Swave,  who  had  the  Miller  boys,  his  brother 
Frank  and  Henry  Kerr  all  in  the  secret,  now  thought 


shocktown's  last  rally.  101 

that  things  had  taken  a  more  favorable  turn  than  he 
could  have  hoped  for.  What  good  angel  could  have 
whispered  to  the  Professor  to  make  that  happy 
suggestion  without  any  understanding  with  him  what- 
ever. As  quick  as  thought  Tom  saw  the  opportune 
moment  had  arrived.  To  wait  longer  would  be  to 
pass  the  flood-tide,  and  he  at  once  cried  out,  "  Graham, 
Graham,"  as  the  Professor  took  his  seat.  The  other 
boys  chimed  in  with  calls  for  Graham,  while  the  audi- 
ence turned  around,  looking  alternately  at  Jacob 
Graham  and  then  at  the  boys.  Tom  caught  the  situa- 
tion at  once  and  exclaimed, '  'Walter  Graham,  the  young 
man,  we  mean." 

Mr.  Williamson  rapped  for  attention  and  said  in  a 
very  inspiring  manner,  ' '  Walter,  there  seems  to  be  a 
general  call  for  you,  I  hope  you  will  not  decline."  It 
must  be  said  for  Walter,  that  in  all  his  months  of  prepa- 
ration and  waiting  for  this  opportunity,  he  never  felt 
as  much  like  backing  out  as  he  had  in  those  moments 
immediately  preceding  this  call,  when  he  witnessed  his 
highly  esteemed  old  friend,  and  his  respected  teacher, 
both  modestly  declining.  And  he  thought  what  pre- 
sumption it  would  seem  for  him  to  rush  in  where  they 
had  refused  ;  but  the  sincere  and  sympathetic  voice  of 
Mr.  Williamson  produced  instantly  a  slight  counter- 
current  in  the  region  of  his  heart,  stimulated  also  by 
the  thought,  what  infirmity  of  purpose  it  would  show 
to  flinch  now.  As  he  arose,  with  considerable  diffi- 
dence, to  approach  the  stand,  he  received  the  most 
effectual  nervine  that  could  have  been  administered, 
from  a  group  of  Democratic  boys  on  the  other  side  of 
the.  room.  He  heard  the  voice  of  Bill  Boyle  .say,  as  he 
walked    past,    "Don't  burst    yourself,   Walt."     Sam. 


102  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Long  said,  "Don't  go  too  deep  into  Greece  and  Rome." 
Jack  Matson  chimed  in,  "Don't  go  farther  back  than 
tlie  Assyrian  Empire.'.'  Mr.  Williamson  rapped  for 
order.  Walter  now  ascended  the  platform  with  his 
combativeness  sufficiently  aroused  to  banish  all  fear 
of  failure  and  addressed  the  meeting  substantially,  as 
follows  ; 

"  Mr.  President  and  fellow  citizens:  I  have  been  ad- 
monished not  to  go  too  far  back  into  ancient  history. 
I  trust,  however,  that  I  shall  get  far  enough  back  in 
modern  historj',  into  the  history  of  our  own  country',  to 
expose  the  principles  and  purposes  of  the  Democratic 
party."  (Applause.)  These  words,  uttered  in  clear, 
sonorous  tones,  captured  his  audience  from  the  start 
and  commanded  the  attention  of  the  Democratic  boys. 
They  could  have  poked  no  fun  at  him  more  in  conso- 
nance with  the  line  of  thought  on  which  he  had  long 
since  prepared  his  speech,  or  given  him  a  better  oppor- 
tunity to  turn  a  point  with  effect.  Continuing,  he  said, 
"  That  purpose  sir,  as  I  shall  show,  is  to  make  slaverj' 
national;  to  enforce  its  existence  everywhere  within 
the  borders  of  the  United  States.  That  is  the  Democ- 
racy that  is  now  represented  by  Breckenridge,  and  by 
the  South.  In  proof  of  this,  just  let  a  few  historical 
facts  'be  submitted  to  a  candid  world.'  Did  not  the 
South  oppose  the  ordinance  of  1787,  prohibiting  the  in- 
troduction of  .slavery  into  the  Southwestern  Terri- 
tories? Did  not  the  rejection  of  that  part  of  the 
measure  give  to  the  slave  power  the  new  slave  States 
of  Kentucky,  Tennessee,  Alabama  and  Mississippi  ? 
Did  that  look  as  if  the  institution  was  going  to  die  out 
of  itself,  as  our  fathers  had  hoped  ?  Did  not  the  pur- 
chase of  the  Louisiana  Territory  in   1803  add  to  the 


shocktown's  last  rally.  103 

slave  power  the  States  of  Louisiana  and  Arkansas  ? 
Did  not  that  look  as  if  it  was  the  purpose  of  the  South 
to  push  the  institution  everywhere  ?  Did  not  the  Mis- 
souri Compromise  in  1820  give  them  the  State  of  Mis- 
souri and  grant  them  the  right  to  introduce  slavery 
into  all  the  existing  territory  south  of  the  line  of  lati- 
tude 36°  and  30'  ?  Was  not  that  making  slavery  one 
of  the  recognized  institutions  of  the  country  about  as 
fast  as  possible?  Did  not  the  South  and  the  Demo- 
cratic party  wrench  from  Mexico  b}^  the  war  of  1846 
the  State  of  Texas  for  the  aggrandizement  of  the  slave 
power,  and  acquire  a  vast  extent  of  new  territory  over 
which  they  refused  the  protection  of  freedom  by  re- 
jecting the  Wilmot  Proviso  ?  And  did  not  the  South 
and  the  Democratic  party  finally  make  a  bold  demand  in 
1854  for  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise,  the 
very  measure  for  which  they  had  contended  so  stoutly 
thirty  years  before,  because  they  now  saw  that  it  stood 
in  the  way  of  the  further  spread  of  slavery?  And  have 
they  not  succeeded  in  repealing  it,  and  passing  the 
Kansas-Nebraska  Bill  ?  And  are  they  not  now  trying 
with  might  and  main  to  force  the  institution  of  slavery 
down  the  throats  of  the  unwilling  people  of  Kansas  ?  But 
in  this,  thank  God,  my  fellow  citizens,  they  will  never 
succeed.  They  have  met  a  different  kind  of  mortal 
in  Kansas  than  they  had  anticipated.  They  have  met 
freemen  who  have  bid  the  slave-holders,  '  go  back 
and  show  your  slaves  how  chivalric  you  are,  and 
make  your  bondmen  tremble,  but  don't  come  here.' 
Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  that  our  Democratic  friends 
are  a  little  anxious  that  we  don't  go  too  deep  into 
the  history,  and  does  it  not  prove  that  it  is  their 
intention    to   make   slavery  national  ?      I   know    it  is 


104  WALTKR    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

said  there  is  a  portion  of  the  Democratic  party,  called 
Douglas  Democrats,  who  pretend  to  say  they  are  only 
contending  for  the  right  of  the  people  of  the  territo- 
ries to  decide  for  themselves  whether  they  will  have 
slavery  or  not  ;  that  they  don't  care,  as  a  question  of 
right  or  wrong,  whether  slaverj'  is  introduced  into  the 
territories  or  not.  But  that  position  is  not  worth  con- 
sidering ;  it  recognizes  no  principle  in  the  question. 
Neither  is  this  Bell-Kverett  party  worth  considering  m 
this  campaign.  They  deal  only  in  glittering  generali- 
ties about  '  the  Union,  the  constitution,  and  the  en- 
forcement of  the  laws.'  All  of  us,  I  take  it,  are  in  favor 
of  that,  but  you  must  come  down  to  some  definite 
opinion  about  the  introduction  or  non-introduction  of 
slaver}^  into  the  national  territories. 

And  Mr.  President,  and  fellow  citizens,  what  I 
contend  is  this :  There  are  but  two  parties  to-day 
in  this  country  who  have  any  actual,  well  defined 
principle  upon  that  question,  the  Republican  party 
and  the  Democratic  part}-  of  the  vSouth  which  is 
represented  by  Breckenridge.  No  man  could  illus- 
trate the  po.sition  more  clearlj'  to  the  American 
people  than  has  our  great  standard  bearer,  Abraham 
Lincoln.  Did  he  not  tell  them  in  his  debates  with 
Douglas  that  there  was  no  middle  position  on  the 
question,  such  as  he  trys  to  assume  ?  Mind  howclearl}' 
Abraham  Lii-coln  puts  it.  I  do  not  claim  this 
as  original  with  myself.  Lincoln  says  substanti- 
ally this :  'A  house  divided  against  itself  will  not 
stand  ;  this  controversy  wnll  not  cease  until  there  is 
slaver}-  ever3'where,  or  none  at  all.  I  do  not  expect 
the  hou.se  to  fall,  I  do  not  expect  the  Union  to  be 
destroyed,  but  I  do  expect  one  or  the  other  of  these 
institutions,  freedom  or  slavery,  to  gain  entire  ascen- 


shocktown's  last  rally.  105 

dency  over  the  other.  Therefore,  every  citizen  must 
ultimatel)'  say  whether  he  considers  slaverj^  right,  or 
w^hether  he  considers  it  wrong  ;  whether  he  prefers  to 
see  it  introduced  into  the  territories  or  prefers  to  see  it 
excluded.  He  cannot  evade  the  responsibility  of  the 
question,  as  Judge  Douglas  endeavors  to  do,  by  saying, 
'  he  don't  care.' 

"  Now,"  the  South  understood  his  proposition  b}- 
decreeing,  as  a  judicial  principle,  that  they  have  a 
right  to  take  slavery  into  the  national  territories, 
whether  or  no  ;  and  they  have  gained  their  point  by  the 
Dred  Scott  decision.  Now,  sir,  as  our  great  candidate 
further  asks  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  '  Of  what  use  is 
his  popular  sovereignty  doctrine  if  he  admits  the 
binding  effect  of  the  Dred  Scott  decision  ? '  And  j-ou 
will  remember,  fellow  citizens,  that  Douglas  has  not 
answered  that  question  yet.  No,  sir  ;  as  our  candidate 
further  saj'S,  '  What  is  to  prevent  the  slave  power  from 
going  one  step  farther  and  obtaining  a  judicial  decree 
that  a  slave-holder  may  enter  a  free  State  with  his 
slave  as  a  matter  of  right  ?  And  when  that  is  done, 
is  not  slavery  everywhere?  '  And  further,  as  Lincoln 
so  clearly  portrays,  this  has  been  the  intention  of 
the  South  from  the  start.  He  says :  '  Suppose  Stephen, 
and  Franklin,  and  James,  and  Roger,  would  all  go  out 
into  the  woods  to  hew  down  and  mortice  separate  sticks 
for  a  building,  and  when  these  timbers  were  all  brought 
together  it  would  be  found  that  they  exactly  fit, 
wouldn't  you  naturally  suppose  that  Stephen,  and 
Franklin,  and  James,  and  Roger,  all  understood  each 
other  ? '  Now,  fellow  citizens,  I  suppose  you  all  see 
the  point  in  the  comparison.  You  see,  Stephen  A. 
Douglas  introduced  a  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill;  then  you 


106  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

see,  Franklin  Pierce  approved  it ;  then  you  see,  James 
Buchanan  suggested,  in  his  first  inaugural,  that  we  have 
a  decision  of  the  Supreme  Court  on  the  question  of 
the  constitutional  right  of  the  slave-holder  to  take  his 
slaves  into  the  territories,  and  then  you  see,  in  a  few 
months,  we  had  the  '  Dred  Scott  Decision  '  by  Roger  B. 
Taney. 

"  Now,  3'ou  see,  my  fellow  citizens,  the  only  waj'^ 
to  resist  the  aggressions  of  the  .slave  power  is  to  have 
a  party  founded  on  the  great  principle  that  it  is 
opposed  to  the  introduction  of  slavery  into  the 
territories,  because  it  believes  it  to  be  wrong,  and 
because  it  believes  that  Congress  has  the  constitu- 
tional power  to  prohibit  its  introduction  into  any  of 
the  territories,  and  to  refuse  to  admit  any  more  slave 
States  into  the  Union.  Such,  sir,  is  the  great  broad 
and  impregnable  principle  upon  which  the  Republican 
party  is  founded,  on  which  it  will  march  to  certain 
victory,  next  Tuesday,  under  the  leadership  of  Abraham 
lyincoln,  a  man  who  stands  to-day  as  the  highest  type 
of  the  self-made  American  citizen  ;  a  man  who  knows 
how  to  make  a  good  rail,  define  a  great  constitutional 
question,  or  grace  the  Presidential  chair  ;  a  man  who 
will  keep  waving  the  symbol  of  peace,  of  union,  and 
of  harmony  over  this  great  and  mighty  union  ;  a  man, 
although  I  do  not  wish  to  use  the  language  of  extrava- 
gance, who  stands  this  day  and  hour  as  the  mightiest 
name  on  the  continent  of  North  America  ' ' 

Walter  now  retired  amid  the  hearty  applause  of  the 
audience.  Mr.  Williamson  took  him  by  the  hand  and 
gave  him  his  .sincere  congratulations.  The  Republican 
boys  said  it  could  not  have  been  better,  and  even  the 
Democratic  boys  smiled  pleasantly  and  said,  "  You  did 


SHOCKTOWN'S   I.AST   RALLY.  107 

well,  Walt."  As  he  walked  home  he  heard  two  men 
behind  the  store,  unhitching  their  horses,  discussing 
it.  One  said,  "  That  boy  of  Jake  Graham's  is  a  pretty 
smart  boy  now,  if  he  don't  get  too  conceited."  To 
which  the  other  replied,  "Yes,  but  don't  you  suppose 
he  had  that  all  studied  up  ?"  The  former  replied,  "  Oh, 
I  suppose  he  had,  but  then  it  is  not  ev^ery  boy 
who  could  do  it  that  well,  even  then ;  it  shows 
there  is  something  in  him.  I  am  not  much  for 
making  boys  conceited  and  spoiling  them  with  educa- 
tion, but  I  believe,  in  this  case  his  father  ought  almost 
to  send  him  through  college."  "  If  I  were  his  father," 
replied  the  other,  ' '  I  would  let  him  go  on  as  far  as  he 
wanted  with  his  education,  if  he  earned  it  himself.  I 
would  not  help  him  with  money,  though." 

The  next  morning,  as  Walter  sat  in  church,  he 
caught  Amelia  Kerr's  eye  across  the  aisle  and  she 
smiled  approvingly  at  him.  After  services  were  over 
she  paused  long  enough  under  the  old  oak  tree  to  shake 
hands  cordially  with  him  and  say,  "  I  must  congratu- 
late you,  Walter,  on  your  effort.  I  have  heard  it  com- 
mented on  very  favorably.  I  thought  we  would  hear 
from  you  before  the  campaign  was  over.  Oh,  yes,  I 
must  tell  you  further ;  I  had  a  letter  from  cousin 
Annie  the  other  day.  She  inquired  about  the  two  very 
gallant  young  men  she  had  so  much  pleasure  in  meet- 
ing at  our  house." 

As  he  withdrew  from  this  shower  of  smiles  and  drove 
home  under  their  benignant  influence,  reflecting  still 
further  over  the  numeroas  compliments  he  had  received, 
it  would  not  have  been  a  startling  freak  of  nature, 
indeed,  if  Walter  had  "bursted."  Perhaps  that  phe- 
nomenon was  averted  by  what  natural  common  sense 
he  could  yet  command,  or  by  the  occasional  recollec- 


108  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

tion  of  the  mixed  compliment  he  had  overheaid  behind 
the  store,  that  "  He  would  be  a  jiretty  smart  boy  now 
if  he  did  not  get  too  conceited." 

His  vanity  was  further  touched  the  next  morning 
at  school,  as  a  group  of  the  girls  joined  in  a  congrat- 
ulatory circle  about  him.  Maggie  Bernard's  smile, 
he  thought,  had  none  of  its  usual  suppressed  con- 
tempt, as  she  said,  "  Indeed,  Walt.,  we  are  not  joking  ; 
all  the  people  that  heard  your  speech  speak  well  of  it. 
Father  and  Mart,  both  said  it  was  just  as  good  as 
that  of  any  of  the  men  they  heard."  Walter  had  re- 
solved during  the  night  to  keep  his  head  in  its  proper 
place,  but  again  he  felt  it  beginning  to  reel.  Maggie 
Bernard  always  was  a  pretty  girl,  he  said  to  himself. 
No  person  had  ever  yet  pronounced  her  homely,  not 
even  himself,  in  his  process  of  casting  her  off;  his  mind 
had  never  written  for  her  epitaph,  "  ugly."  Neither  of 
her  sisters  could  compare  with  her  in  beauty.  As  for 
her  reserved  father  and  brother,  he  could  certainly  mark 
down  a  compliment  from  them  as  coming  from  an  un- 
expected quarter,  and  therefore,  he  concluded,  sincere. 
He  might  after  all,  he  thought  to  himself,  have 
judged  the  Bernards  too  severely,  now  that  he  suddenly 
remembered  that  none  of  the  family  had  ever  given  him 
any  direct  insult,  and  had  always  treated  him  with 
the  same  formal  politeness;  and  perhaps  Maggie  should 
be  excused  for  a  little  haughtiness,  when  he  considered 
the  number  of  admirers  she  had  for  one  of  her  years. 

But  the  hour  of  his  humiliation  was  close  at  hand. 
After  dinner,  as  he  returned  to  school,  Bob  Long 
held  in  his  hand  a  copy  of  the  Sharwood  Age  (the 
Democratic  organ  of  Jefferson  Count}'),  and  called  out, 
"  Hallo,  Walter,  here  is  a  copy  of  your  speech  in  the 
paper."     Walter  and  the  other  boys  gathered  around 


shocktown's  last  rally.  109 

while  Bob  read  from  the  columns  of  the  Ag-e  the 
following  account  of  the  meeting  at  which  Walter  had 
won  such  a  reputation  as  an  orator  : 

"  Grand  Fizzle. — The  black  RepubHcans  of  Adams 
Township  had  made  elaborate  preparations  for  a  last 
grand  rally  at  Shocktovvn  on  Saturda}'  night.  But  the 
failure  becoming  so  evident,  the  speakers  for  the  occasion 
had  either  been  advised  not  to  put  in  ah  appearance  or 
else  were  kept  hid  in  the  back-ground.  About  eight 
o'clock  there  were,  all  told,  about  twenty-five  men,  boys, 
and  dogs,  gathered  about  Miller's  cooper  shop,  when 
the  old  fanatic,  John  Williamson,  was  called  to  the 
chair.  He  regretted  to  state  that  they  had  been  dis- 
appointed in  their  speakers  and  hoped  Professor  Sam'l 
Baker  could  favor  them  with  a  few  remarks.  But  that 
gentleman  very  modestly  declined,  whereupon  a  very 
fresh  young  man  by  the  name  of  Graham  volunteered 
to  address  the  meeting.  He  mounted  a  pile  of  old  rub- 
bish and  harangued  the  dozen  people  who  stayed  to 
listen  for  about  fifteen  minutes,  in  which  time  he  man- 
aged to  recite  his  school  history  of  the  United  States 
from  the  Declaration  of  Independence  down  to  the 
present  time  ;  quoted  largely  from  Shakespeare  and 
repeated  Lincoln's  buffoonry  in  his  debates  with 
Douglas,  which  he  called  great  logic,  and  concluded 
by  saying  that  if  Lincoln  was  elected  he  would 
grace  the  white-house  yard.  Being  a  good  rail-splitter 
he  would  know  how  to  keep  the  fences  in  order. 
Then  the  meeting  scattered,  being  altogether  a  grand 
fizzle." 

The  Democratic  boys  took  a  hearty  laugh  at  the  con- 
clusion of  this  article,  while  Walter,  although  consid- 
erably disconcerted,  managed  to  say,"  That  is  about  all 


110  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

you  could  expect  from  that  dirty  sheet."  George  Mil- 
ler said,  with  indignation,  "And  such  a  lot  of  lies  ;  it 
calls  our  carriage  factory  a  cooper  shop. ' '  Tom  Swave 
said,  "Oh,  that  vile  paper  could  not  report  anything 
correctly  if  it  would  try.  That  article  don't  hurt  us  a 
bit  more  than  a  crow  flying  over  our  heads."  Then, 
turning  to  Jake  Hoover,  he  continued,  "I  guess  your 
father  or  Jacob'  Matson  wrote  that  article ;  which  was 
it,  Jake?"  Jake  replied  he  did  not  know.  "It  gives 
you  a  pretty  good  raking  up,  anyhow,  whoever  did  it." 
The  boys  all  scattered  now  with  a  good-natured  "let 
us  go  on  with  our  game  of  ball.  School  will  call  before 
we  know  what  we  are  about."  This  they  all  did  in 
good  part,  but  all  afternoon  Walter  could  not  dismiss 
from  his  mind  how  thoroughly  he  had  been  satir- 
ized. He  concluded  that  Tom  Swave's  judgment  was 
correct ;  that  it  should  be  treated  with  silent  contempt ; 
but  yet  that  night  he  could  not  keep  from  asking  his 
parents  if  papers  had  not  been  sued  for  less  abusive 
articles.  His  father  replied  that  "  Fools  generally  take 
notice  of  such  articles  ;  wise  men  bestow  very  little 
thought  upon  them."  Mrs.  Graham  said,  "Walter, 
that  article  may  be  of  more  benefit  to  you  than  if  it 
had  been  one  lauding  your  efforts.  I  cannot  say  but 
that  I  am  glad  it  has  appeared  and  that  the  Republican 
papers  make  no  mention  of  the  meeting."  Mary  and 
Sue  both  declared  that  "It  was  a  mean,  contemptible 
article,  full  of  lies;  that  was  what  it  was  ;  "  and  Joe 
now  declared,  with  the  full  force  of  his  ten  summers, 
that  he  could  "  Knock  the  man  giddy  who  wrote  it," 
to  which  his  mother  replied,  "  There,  there,  Joe,  that  is 
rather  large  talk  from  such  a  small  man." 

As  Walter   lay  in   bed   that    night,    reviewing   the 


shocktown's  last  rally.  Ill 

whole  aifair  in  liis  mind,  long  before  his  eyelids  closed 
in  sleep  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  his  speech  in 
the  great  campaign  had  not  staggered  the  nation.  He 
felt  confident  that  the  morrow  was  to  bring  forth  the 
election  of  Lincohi,  although  he  could  not  but  remem- 
ber how  hopeful  he  had  been  four  years  before  ;  and  it 
made  him  sometimes  tremble  now  for  the  moment.  He 
had  too  much  intelligence  left,  not  to  saj^  self-possession, 
to  misread  the  minds  of  his  parents  in  their  indiffer- 
ence about  what  he  had  been  considering  his  great 
success,  and  their  failure  to  become  indignant  at  the 
libellous  article  of  the  ^g'c.  He  knew  they  had 
always  taught  him  to  have  a  proper  respect  for  his  own 
individuality  of  character,  and  that  this  was  only 
meant  as  a  wholesome  rebuke  to  the  ambition  that  they 
knew  was  now  firing  his  brain.  All  the  next  day  at 
school  he  could  hardly  be  as  buoyant  as  he  would  have 
liked  to  be,  although  he  had  resolved  to  use  philos- 
ophy and  forget  the  past.  He  saw  Mr.  Wagner  slip 
across  to  the  polls  to  vote  for  Douglas,  during  the 
noon  hour,  as  he  had  from  the  old  public  school,  four 
years  ago,  to  vote  for  Buchanan,  and  Walter  thought,  he 
ishalf  way  a  Republican  now.  He  saw  the  bleak  Novem- 
ber day  close  in,  as  he  had  four  years  ago.  He  walked 
over  to  the  village  after  supper  with  his  father,  as  he  did 
not  four  years  before.  While  he  felt  his  own  mind  more 
matured  than  four  years  ago,  he  was  satisfied  that  his 
father  was  more  hopeful.  The  lamps  burned  low 
across  the  street  at  the  drug  store,  the  Democratic 
headquarters  of  the  village,  and  Repi:blicans,  who 
were  gathering  in  at  Swave's  .store,  had  every  reason 
to  be  hopeful.  The  first  click  of  the  wire  indicated 
that  Pennsylvania  was  solid.    Some   of  the  villagers 


112  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN, 

had  driven  over  to  Mansdale  to  gather  the  more  satis- 
factory returns.  Walter  and  his  father  returned  home 
by  half-past  ten,  the  latter  saying  to  Mrs.  Graham,  as 
he  went  to  bed,  "  I  ])elieve  I  can  sleep  without  a  fear." 
But,  notwithstanding,  he  and  Walter  were  both  up 
early  in  the  morning.  As  they  were  out  at  the  barn, 
doing  the  morning  chores,  Sam.  Long  drove  past  with 
the  butcher  wagon,  as  he  had  done  four  years  before, 
but  he  stopped  this  time  to  tell  Walter  and  his  father, 
"You  may  hurrah  for  Lincoln  now,  Walter;  I  guess 
you  have  got  us  this  time."  And  in  answer  to  Mr. 
Graham's  question,  as  to  what  he  had  that  was  reliable, 
he  replied,  "Oh,  father  and  Dave  Miller  and  several 
others  left  Mansdale  after  one  o'clock.  They  all  agree 
Lincoln  is  elected." 

Walter  Graham  started  off  to  school  that  morning 
with  all  the  ecsta.S5^  of  victory.  No  fearful  forebodings 
filled  his  mind  as  they  had  four  years  before.  For  the 
moment  he  had  forgotten  all  about  the  episode  of  his 
speech.  He  received  a  pleasant  reminder  of  it  as  he  met 
Mr.  Wagner  passing  into  the  school-house,  who  smiled 
so  kindly  to  him  and  said,  "  Well,  Walter,  I  guess  your 
speech  must  have  done  it."  But  neither  he  nor  Walter 
saw  how  distinct  an  epoch  had  been  marked  in  a 
nation's  history.  They  of  course  saw  that  sixty  years 
of  almost  unbroken  reign  of  the  Democratic  party  was 
now  to  be  interrupted,  but  to  their  eyes  was  not  re- 
vealed that  day  the  far  reaching  consequence  of  that 
event ;  nor  did  Jacob  Graham  and  his  devoted  wife 
know  how  near  at  hand  were  the  weary  days  when 
they  would  long  to  say,  "We  can  lie  down  to-night 
without  a  fear." 


CHAPTER     VIII. 

THE    GA  THE  RING  STORM. 

ATO  sooner  had  the  result  of  the  election  been  defi- 
-^^  nitely  ascertained,  and  the  people  of  the  South 
fully  realized  that  the  party  of  total  exclusion  of  slav- 
ery in  the  territories  had  triumphed,  than  they  began 
to  take  council  among  themselves  as  to  what  course 
they  should  pursue.  The  Republican  cry  of  victory 
throughout  the  North  had  scarcely  died  in  the  echo 
until  their  jubilant  voices  were  changed  to  whispers  of 
suppressed  alarm.  Science  had  been  teaching  Walter 
that  the  precursors  of  the  natural  earthquake  some- 
times resembled  the  sound  of  distant  thunder.  He  laid 
his  ear  close  to  political  terra  firma,  and  thought  he 
heard  the  rumbling  far  away  in  the  direction  of  the 
South.  Sometimes  he  thought  the  verj^  heart  of  the 
storm  centre  was  located  in  the  city  of  Charleston. 
How  far  it  would  extend,  what  proportions  it  would 
assume,  what  would  be  done  to  avert  it,  and  what 
should  be  done  to  avert  it,  were  the  questions  now  be- 
ing pondered  and  considered  by  older  heads  than  his 
own. 

Walter  heard  these  questions  discussed  in  the  home 
circle,  at  his  school,  and  at  the  lyceum  at  the  village 
debates,  and  at  the  public  meetings,  at  the  village 
store  and  at  his  father's  mill,  at  public  sales  and  from 
the  pulpit.  Yes,  Mr.  Hartley  generall}-  prayed  that 
' '  The  voice  of  moderation  and  the  counsels  of  wisdom 


114  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

might  prevail  throughout  all  sections  of  our  vast  coun- 
try, and  our  glorious  Union  be  preserved  intact."  How 
strange  were  the  words  which  came  to  Walter's  ears 
from  a  convention  claiming  to  be  the  sovereign  State 
of  South  Carolina,  that  the  Union  was  dissolved.  How 
he  read  the  accounts  of  other  vStates  going  through  the 
same  performance ;  of  their  preliminar}^  steps  for  the 
formation  of  a  government  of  their  own,  whose  "cor- 
ner-stone was  slaver3^'"  Some  little  cant  was  made 
about  State  rights,  but  it  was  very  little.  Few  indeed 
were  deceived  as  to  the  real  cause.  Even  the  weak, 
expiring  administration  betrayed  its  consciousness  of 
that  when  it  said,"  The  violent  and  intemperate  agita- 
tion of  the  slavery  question  on  the  part  of  the  North 
has  now  produced  its  natural  results."  Mr.  Buchanan 
knew  well  enough  what  was  the  matter.  He  was  only 
anxious  to  place  the  entire  responsibility  on  the 
North.  Severe  critics  have  even  charged  him  with  a 
deliberate  purpose  to  make  the  road  to  rebellion  easy 
by  declaring,  ' '  That  he  saw  no  constitutional  power 
to  prevent  the  secession  of  a  State. ' ' 

Walter  Graham,  although  not  a  constitutional  law- 
yer, thought  this  proposition  monstrous,  not  to  say  a 
fine  subtilty.  This  opinion  was  probably  the  one  held 
by  a  majority  of  the  North,  but  as  to  the  first  assertion 
he  could  not  but  observe  Buchanan  had  a  large  follow- 
ing ;  a  considerable  portion  of  the  people  seemed  dis- 
posed to  hold  the  North  largely  accountable.  They 
were  willing,  at  least,  to  make  some  concession  to 
avert  an  awful  catastrophe.  Capital  and  commerce, 
always  conservative,  could  be  safely  relied  upon  to 
espouse  the  cause  of  compromise.  Their  effusions 
broke  out  in  large  mass  meetings  in  the  large  cities  of 


THE    GATHERING   STORM.  115 

the  North,  composed  largelj-  of  large  merchants  and 
large  capitalists,  with  large  bank  accounts-,  which  con- 
tributed largely  in  sending  the  cold  chills  down  the 
backs  of  many  of  those  who  had  been  considered  tried 
and  trusted  leaders  in  the  cause  of  freedom,  and 
threatened  for  the  moment  the  surrender  of  all  that 
had  been  gained  in  the  contest,  producing  a  feeling 
of  intense  solicitude  in  the  minds  of  those  who  stood 
for  maintaining  their  ground,  firm  as  the  rock-bound 
coast  when  it  beats  back  the  ocean  billows. 

Mr.  Williamson  had  said  to  Walter  and  his  father, 
at  the  village  meeting  and  on  all  occasions,  that  "  The 
Republican  party  never  was  in  greater  peril  than  it  is 
at  this  moment.  No  man  will  ever  be  put  to  a  more 
crucial  test  than  Abraham  Lincoln.  I  will  bear  with 
timidity,  with  caution,  if  his  conclusions  are  ultimatel}' 
right,  and  he  is  firm  in  the  end  ;  but  I  am  as  thor- 
oughly convinced  as  I  can  be  convinced  of  anything, 
that  to  surrender  one  inch  of  ground  now  gained  is  to 
postpone  the  cause  of  freedom  for  the  next  two  hun- 
dred years." 

Walter  saw  Congress  assembled  that  Winter  amid 
these  conflicting  emotions  of  passion  and  fear.  He  saw 
the  Southern  Senators  and  Representatives,  one  by  one, 
take  their  departure  from  those  halls  uttering  sulky 
and  defiant  words.  He  almost  wondered  sometimes 
whether  these  men  were  the  injured  parties  and 
whether  they  really  believed  what  they  said.  When  he 
read  the  utterance  of  Judah  P.  Benjamin,  as  he  bade 
farewell  to  the  Senate,  "Better  a  thousand  times  the 
wildest  anarchy,  aye  the  flimsiest  gossamer  that  ever 
glittered  in  the  morning  dew,  than  bands  of  iron  or 
shackles  of  steel,  with  the  hope,  with  the  chance  of  one 


116  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

hour's  inspiration  of  the  glorious  breath  of  freedom, 
than  ages  of  the  hopeless  bondage  to  which  our  ene- 
mies would  reduce  us."  True,  Walter  said  rather  sar- 
castically, that  he  supposed  the  bondage  Mr.  Benjamin 
alluded  to  was  the  restriction  which  might  prevent 
him  from  holding  other  men  in  bondage;  but,  neverthe- 
less, the  utterance  in  the  abstract  read  to  him  like  impas- 
sioned eloquence.  Would  the  world  be  misled  by  it  ? 
That  was  the  question  now. 

He  saw  Jefferson  Davis  rise  in  his  seat  and  protest 
against  the  government  "Taking  any  action  to  fortify 
and  maintain  its  forts,  because  it  might  precipitate 
action  on  the  part  of  the  South."  He  wondered  if 
the  North  was  so  stupid  as  not  to  see  through  that  re- 
mark, and  if  they  were  weak  enough  to  obey  it.  He 
heard  Senator  Wigfall,  of  Texas,  rise  and  say  sub- 
stantially, "These  Northern  men  are  miserable  crea- 
tures ;  if  you  hold  up  the  rod  of  chastisement  they 
will  tremble  and  turn  pale,  and  at  the  first  light  stroke 
they  go  down  and  bite  the  very  dust."  He  read  of 
proposed  compromises  flying  around  in  Washington  as 
thick  as  butterflies  on  a  June  day,  the  most  conspicu- 
ous of  which  was  labelled  "  Crittenden."  The  imminent 
danger  of  its  adoption  was  what  alarmed  him,  his 
father,  and  Mr.  Williamson,  as  they  saw  the  pliant 
knees  of  Northern  Representatives  bending  all  around. 
It  was  high  time,  they  thought,  for  the  real  leaders  of 
the  Republican  party  to  assert  themselves.  Gruff"  old 
Ben.  Wade,  of  Ohio,  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence 
in  the  Senate.  He  said,  in  substance,  "That  he  could 
not  look  upon  the  proposition  of  compromise  without 
a  smile  ;  since  he  had  been  a  member  of  this  body  he 
had  seen  the  most  sacred  of  them  all  swept  away  by 


THE   GATHERING  STORM.  117 

the  hands  of  those  who  now  asked  virtually  for  its  re-es- 
tablishment. No,  sir,  we  went  before  the  country  with 
our  candidate  and  principles  ;  5'ou  went  before  the 
country  wnth  yours.  And  after  your  doing  your  best  and 
we  doing  our  best,  we  beat  you;  and,  sir,  we  have  nothing 
to  concede  or  to  compromise.  We  will  inaugurate  our 
President  and  enforce  the  laws  even  if  your  darling  in- 
stitution has  to  go  under,  for  the  Union,  the  Constitu- 
tion and  the  time-honored  old  flag  shall  live  forever," 
He  saw  the  "  Old  Commoner  "  from  Pennsylvania, 
who  had  returned  now  to  the  House  to  assume  its 
leadership,  rise  in  his  place  with  knit  eyebrows  and 
compressed  lips,  and  speaking  as  one  having  authority, 
bid  the  tidal  wave  retreat.  Threats  about  secession 
and  war  gave  him  no  alarm.  He  said  in  substance, 
"  If  the  South  were  mad  enough  to  rush  into  war,  that 
would  be  the  annihilation  of  their  institution.  The 
issue  would  simply  be  to  leave  us  a  nation  purged  of 
the  curse  of  slaverj'."  The  clearness  of  his  mental 
vision  was  like  unto  that  of  Alexander  H.  Stephens, 
of  Georgia,  who  warned  his  people  of  the  same  result. 
The  Tribime  came  to  the  rescue,  by  declaring  to  its 
readers,  that  "  the  adoption  of  this  Crittenden  Compro- 
mise would  be  a  victory  for  the  enemy  more  brilliant 
than  any  they  had  ever  dared  to  hope  for;  and  our  vic- 
tory would  be  a  defeat  more  humiliating  than  any  we 
had  ever  feared."  These  sentiments  served  as  a  whole- 
some antidote  to  Walter  for  the  vague  uncertainties 
and  fine  sentences  which  covered  ideas  in  Seward's 
utterances,  such  as,  "Speaking  for  the  Union,  and  pay- 
ing for  the  Union,  and  praying  for  the  Union.  And  as 
prayer  brings  men  nearer  to  God,  although  it  cannot 
move  Him  towards  us,  perhaps  every  word  of  concili- 


118  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

atioii  spoken  in  favor  of  the  Union  might  have  its 
healing  effect,"  all  of  which  seemed  like  very  nice 
rhetoric,  as  Professor  Baker  had  the  boj'S  read  it  one 
afternoon  in  school ;  but  of  which,  the  Professor  him- 
self admitted  when  done,  that  he  was  not  quite  certain 
as  to  what  Mr.  Seward's  position  was  on  the  question 
of  compromise.  And  Walter  was  not  quite  sure  that 
Seward  had  not  fallen  a  little  in  the  estimation  of  both 
the  Professor  and  himself. 

As  the  process  of  disintegration  kept  going  steadily 
on  and  secession  assumed  more  and  more  the  attitude 
of  rebellion,  some  effort  was  made  on  the  part  of  the 
loyal  members  of  Buchanan's  cabinet  to  strengthen  his 
feeble  knees  and  hold  up  his  palsied  hand,  to  do 
something  that  might  at  least  seem  like  the  semblance 
of  an  effort  to  preserve  the  nation's  authority.  But  it 
was  too  late  or  too  feeble  to  prevent  the  President-elect 
from  having  to  crawl  into  Washington  by  stealth  for 
the  purpose  of  being  inaugurated,  or  being  openly 
assassinated  on  the  way.  All  this  Walter  looked  upon 
as  a  deep  humiliation  and  disgrace. 

There  might  be  no  excuse,  and  perhaps  should  be 
some  apology  as  it  is,  for  tarrying  even  this  long  in  a 
novel  to  allude  to  events  which  have  already  been 
elaborated  upon  by  legions,  and  are  destined  to  be  the 
theme  of  thousands  more,  but  for  the  fact  that  Walter 
Graham  happened  to  be  born  at  the  time  he  was  (a 
fact  for  which  he  cannot  be  held  accountable),  it  is 
only  fair  to  him  now  to  say  that  in  giving  a  narrative 
of  his  life  some  little  account  should  be  taken  of  those 
events,  some  faint  idea  given  of  what  impression  they 
made  upon  his  mind.  Perhaps  he  himself  was  not 
aware  of  the  fact  that  he  was  passing  through  one  of 


THE   GATHERING   STORM.  119 

the  most  eventful  periods  of  the  world's  history.  Per- 
haps he  did  not  fully  realize  that  down  the  long  path- 
way of  nations'  histories  no  legislative  body  had  ever 
been  the  scene  of  more  earnest  debate,  or  more  forensic 
eloquence,  than  the  American  Congress  had  been 
for  the  past  ten  years.  Perhaps  he  was  ignorant 
of  the  fact  that  his  country  was  the  theatre  of 
the  most  dramatic  scenes  that  ever  preceded  a 
national  convulsion,  unless  indeed  the  early  stages 
of  the  French  Revolution  should  be  excepted.  But 
certain  it  was,  as  he  passed  the  historic  winter  of  i860 
and  '61  at  Professor  Baker's  academ}^  as  day  by  day, 
and  week  by  week,  he  saw  the  storm  clouds  gather 
thicker  and  thicker  and  heard  the  thunder-peal  draw 
nearer  and  nearer,  it  was  no  easy  matter  for  him  to 
keep  his  mind  down  to  his  studies  with  that  assiduity 
of  purpose  he  had  resolved  upon  at  the  opening  of  the 
term.  But  nevertheless  he  stuck  to  it  sufficiently  well  to 
win  his  prize,  to  take  the  honors  of  his  class  and  to  de- 
liver the  valedictory  address  on  the  subject  of  the 
hour — "The  Federal  Union."  To  do  this,  indeed  re- 
quired more  resolution  than  might  be  supposed.  Con- 
sidering his  proneness  for  public  affairs,  it  caused  him 
more  self-denial  than  it  would  have  done  if  the  situa- 
tion had  admitted  of  any  relaxing  of  his  efforts  ; 
for  around  him  were  dangerous  contestants,  the  most 
dangerous  of  all  he  knew  quite  well  was  his  friend  Tom 
Swave.  Walter  knew  that  to  pause  too  long  was  but  to 
let  Tom  make  a  brilliant  charge  and  gain  ground  that 
might  not  be  recovered.  If  Tom  lacked  any  element 
of  success  in  this  race  which  Walter  possessed,  it  was 
simply  fixedness  of  purpose  and  capabilit}'  for  hard 
work.  On  that  thread  alone  Walter  instinctively  knew 
hung  the  fate  of  his  cause. 


120  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

The  ardor  of  his  nature  was  tempted  on  all  sides. 
Cupid's  dart,  capable  of  piercing  through  all  other 
emotions,  would  not  be  entirely  still,  ev'en  at  his 
most  resolute  bidding.  He  staggered  a  little  under 
the  wound,  as  he  actually  declined  several  invi- 
tations on  behalf  of  the  girls  to  attend  evening 
sociables,  on  the  ground  that  he  was  going  to 
abandon  all  social  duties  until  after  school  closed.  He 
was  stunned  still  more  one  Saturday  evening  when 
Henry  Kerr,  Amelia,  and  their  cousin  Annie,  drove  up 
to  the  hou.se  to  return  the  pleasant  visit  they  had  re- 
ceived the  previous  summer.  This  was  not  all  by  acci- 
dent either.  Mary  and  Sue  had  invited  Amelia  to 
bring  Miss  Lesher  over  to  see  them  the  next  time  .she 
came  to  the  country,  and  accordingl}-  Amelia  sent  a 
note  to  the  girls  that  cousin  Annie  was  going  to  spend 
a  few  days  with  them  the  la.st  of  the  week,  and  if  it 
was  agreeable  she  would  be  pleased  to  make  them  a 
visit  on  Saturday  evening.  The  girls  replied  that  they 
would  be  delighted  to  have  them  come,  and  obtained 
permission  from  their  mother  to  invite  a  few  friends, 
and  if  all  went  well  and  smooth,  old  Zebediah  Monks 
might  drop  in  with  his  violin  about  half-past  eight. 
They  could  have  such  a  nice  select  little  sociable  and 
dance  combined,  and  the  fun  of  it  was  it  would  all  be  a 
surprise  to  Walter. 

The  rap  at  the  door  was  responded  to  by  Sue,  with 
the  alacrit}'  of  one  in  expectanc}'.  The}-  were  ushered 
in,  partly  by  both  the  girls  and  Mrs.  Graham,  who  was 
introduced  to  Miss  L,esher  by  Amelia,  with  her  usual 
comeliness,  and  then  to  Mr.  Graham,  after  which  Wal- 
ter, advancing  from  his  corner,  met  Miss  Annie  advan- 
cing with  quick  vivacity  of  step  toward  him,  exclaim- 


THE   GATHERING   STORM.  121 

ing,  "How  do  you  do?  How  do  you,  Mr.  Graham? 
You  never  come  to  town  to  see  your  friends,  so  we  have 
to  come  all  the  way  here  to  see  you,  in  mid  winter." 
"  Yes,  yes,"  replied  Walter,  taking  her  extended  hand, 
with  a  great  eifort  to  assume  the  same  easy,  jocose  man- 
ner, "  that  is  right,  that  is  right,"  and  stumbling  over  a 
rocking  chair  as  he  retreated  a  little  sidewise  to  make 
room  for  her  to  pass  by. 

"  Well,  I  am  sure  we  will  think  it  all  right,"  was  the 
quick  response,  "inasmuch  as  I  was  wondering 
whether  I  would  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  the 
Graham  family  again,  and  here,  sure  enough,  cousin 
Amelia  told  me,  almost  the  first  thing,  that  she  had  such 
a  nice  invitation  for  us  to  come  over  while  I  was  here." 

"Well,  yes,"  replied  Walter,  rather  slower  than  be- 
fore, "I  guess  that  was  all  right;  in  fact,  I  did  not 
know  anything  about  it." 

"Just  listen,  won't  you?"  exclaimed  Miss  Lesher. 
"  Cousin  Amelia  and  Henry,  you  must  have  played  a 
huge  joke  on  me.  You  said  we  had  been  invited  out 
to  spend  the  evening,  and  here  the  young  gentleman 
of  the  house  says  he  knows  nothing  of  it." 

"Ah,  there  are  a  good  many  things,"  interposed 
Mary,  "going  on  sometimes  that  Walter  don't  know 
about." 

' '  You  need  not  be  anxious  or  afraid  about  our  invi- 
tation not  being  warm  enough;  need  she,  girls?"  re- 
sponded Amelia,  as  she  turned  to  Mary  and  Sue  and 
Mrs.  Graham,  who  was  also  smiling  complacently. 

"Oh,,  yes,    I   see,"    said  Miss  lyCsher.      "You  will 

have  to  make  your  daughters  keep  your  sons  better 

posted,   Mrs.   Graham.     Do  the}''  often  pla}^  tricks  on 

you,  Walter?"  she  continued,  turning  to  him.     "  Ex- 

6 


122  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

cuse  me  for  calling  you  Walter,  I  have  become  so  ac- 
customed to  hearing  all  the  rest  do  it." 

' '  You  are  quite  excusable,  Miss  Lesher, ' '  replied 
Walter,  "  The  fact  is  I  am  rather  more  accustomed  my- 
self to  Walter  than  to  Mr.  Graham." 

Henry  spoke  up  saying,  "  Walter,  you  will  have  to 
take  the  same  privilege  with  her  then  ;  call  her  Annie." 

"  Oh,"  rejoined  Walter,  "on  the  same  principle  she 
alleges,  I  would  have  to  call  her  cousin  Annie  ;  you 
folks  always  call  her  that. ' ' 

"Well,  I  do  say,  Walter,"  exclaimed  Miss  Lesher, 
"  I  did  not  know  you  v/ere  so  sarcastic.  I  think  after 
this  3^ou  will  have  to  be  allowed  that  privilege.  I  trust 
you  will  have  no  occasion  to  be  ashamed  of  j^our  new 
relation." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Walter,  "I  think  I  will  be  highly 
complimented.  I  think  3'ou  are  getting  a  little  sarcas- 
tic now,  cousin  Annie"  (uttering  the  last  words  with 
a  herculean  effort).  By  this  time  they  had  all  been 
cosily  seated  for  .some  minutes,  and  were  plying  questions 
thick  and  fast  at  one  another.  An  air  of  unrestrained 
ease  pervaded  the  little  circle.  Walter  was  thinking 
to  himself,  I  don't  believe  she  is  pert  after  all ;  and 
there  is  one  thing  certain,  she  is  a  girl  of  considerable 
intelligence.  She  now  turned  to  him  in  the  same  quick, 
decisive  way  and  asked,  "What  has  become  of  your 
agreeable  \'oung  friend,  Walter  ?  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  him  last  summer.  What  is  it  his  name 
is,  Suasion? " 

"Swave,  Swave,"  replied  Walter.  "  Oh,  he  is  about, 
and  all  right." 

Mary  smiled  a  broad  smile  at  this  point  and  said,  "Oh, 
he  is  often  around.    You  might  see  him  to-night  5'et, 


THE   GATHERING   STORM.  123 

there  is  no  telling."  "Swave,"  rejoined  Miss  Lesher  ; 
' '  how  did  he  ever  get  that  name  ;  is  he  so  full  of  suav- 
ity ?  "  "I  don't  know,"  said  Walter,  "whether  that 
is  the  reason  or  not  ;  he  don't  spell  it  that  wa}-  at  least." 
"At  all  events,"  said  Amelia,  "it  seems  he  is  around 
a  good  bit."  At  which  Mary,  all  innocent  of  what  her 
remark  was  construed  to  mean,  blushed  considerably, 
whereupon  Miss  Lesher  said,  "  That  remark  is  capable 
of  two  constructions,  either  the  one  Amelia  hints  at 
or  that  there  are  more  surprises  in  store  for  3^ou  to- 
night ;  which  is  it,  Walter?"  "  I  rather  suspect  there 
is  more  conspiracy  going  on,"  replied  Walter. 

' '  I  hope  they  are  not  as  bad  as  those  conspirators 
down  South,"  rejoined  Miss  L,esher.  "  Hard  to  tell," 
said  Walter,  ' '  the  disease  ma}^  be  spreading. ' '  The 
conversation  here  switched  off  on  the  all-absorbing 
question  of  secession,  in  which  Miss  Lesher  still  ex- 
hibited her  same  sprightl}-  intelligence.  Turning  with 
a  quick  jerk  to  Walter,  she  said,  "Do  you  actually 
think  there  will  be  a  war  3'et  on  the  head  of  this?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Walter.  "Sometimes  I 
think  possibly  it  will  all  end  in  talk  ;  that  they  are 
just  testing  their  theory  of  peacable  secession.  You 
know  the  North  has  always  yielded  to  them  so  much; 
they  think  we  will  submit  to  anything.  If  Lincoln 
will  simply  take  a  firm  stand  when  he  gets  in,  for  en- 
forcing the  laws,  it  may  be  they  will  all  back  down  as 
gracefully  as  they  can. "  "  That  is  what  father  thinks, ' ' 
replied  Miss  Lesher.  ' '  Sometimes  he  gets  so  disgusted 
he  believes  they  are  nothing  but  a  set  of  blow-horns  ; 
he  don't  believe  there  is  any  fight  in  them."  "How 
is  that?  "  queried  Jacob  Graham  at  this  point.  "  Your 
father  thinks  there  is  no  fiorht  in  them  ?" 


124  WALTER    G-RAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"Yes,"  replied  Miss  Lesher,  "he  thinks  all  they 
need  is  a  good  settling  down  ;  he  says  if  old  Jackson 
were  President  now,  they  would  not  be  carrying  on  this 
way." 

Jacob  Graham  shook  his  head  and  said  meditatively. 
"  I  suppose  that  is  true  ;  what  they  need  is  a  good  set- 
tling down.  I  am  only  puzzled  to  know  what  it  may 
cost  to  give  them  that. ' ' 

P'urther  conversation  on  this  theme  was  here  inter- 
rupted by  the  arrival  of  other  company,  which  was  to 
complete  the  surprise  to  Walter.  It  consisted  of  Tom 
Swave,  who  was  able  now  to  present  to  Miss  Lesher 
his  older  brother  Frank.,  the  three  Bernard  girls,  Sam. 
Long  and  Bob,  Joe  Miller  and  George,  and  their  sister 
Beckie.  Mart.  Bernard  had  excused  himself  on  the 
ground  that  he  was  detained  with  a  rebel  cousin  from 
North  Carolina,  who  had  just  arriv*ed.  Dave  Miller 
and  Jack  Matson  had  both  written  the  girls  polite  letters 
regretting  their  inability  to  be  present;  but,  notwith- 
standing, what  a  nice,  select  little  gathering  it  was.  It 
was  a  kind  of  debut  into  society  for  the  girls,  and  Mrs. 
Graham  thought  how  much  better  it  was  to  be  right 
under  her  own  roof  than  anywhere  else. 

There  were  enough  of  them  to  keep  going  one  plain 
quadrille,  and  even  double  on  the  lead  sometimes,  and 
leave  a  few  to  rest  alternately.  The  company  had  just 
time  enough  for  a  little  social  intercourse  and  acquain- 
tance with  Mi.ss  lycsher,  when  old  Zebediah  appeared 
with  his  fiddle.  The  evening  fled  with  joyous  speed. 
Tom  Swave  and  Joe  Miller  were  masters  of  ceremony. 
Walter  stepped  with  alacrity  to  the  wit  and  vivacity  ol 
Miss  lyCsher.  Amelia  Kerr  seemed  to  be  as  kind  and 
accomplished  as  ever  when  he  led  her  out  on  the  floor. 


THE   GATHERING   STORM.  125 

Maggie  Bernard's  smile  would  still  beam  all  evening, 
and  would  close  with  its  latent  contempt.  It  was 
nearly  eleven  o'clock,  and  the  last  set  for  the  night,  be- 
fore ever  Walter  asked  her  to  dance  with  him.  She  of 
course  accepted  ;  but  Walter  was  not  sure  whether  it 
was  with  a  little  disdain,  or  whether  she  was  a  little 
piqued  that  she  had  not  been  earlier  asked.  However, 
he  had  to  admit  to  himself  that  she  did  move  with 
great  grace,  and  was  decidedly  the  handsomest  fig- 
ure on  the  floor  that  night.  That  could  not  be  denied. 
She  said  to  him  quite  friendly,  "Walter,  you  must 
come  over  and  see  our  rebel  cousin  from  the  South, 
while  he  is  with  us. ' '  He  thanked  her,  saying,  ' '  I 
would  like  to  very  much.  I  wish  you  would  bring 
him  over  here.  I  know  father  w^ould  like  to  meet  him." 
Maggie  replied,  "I  do  believe  I  will  get  Mart,  to  do 
that." 

The  company  broke  up  after  voting  it  a  grand  suc- 
cess. "Oh,  cousin  Annie,  I  guess  you  always  enjoy 
yourself,"  said  Walter.  "  Is  she  your  cousin?"  quer- 
ied Tom  Swave,  with  some  suspicion  in  his  look.  "  Oh, 
no,  not  by  relationship,"  replied  Mi.ss  lycsher  quickly  ; 
"but  he  is  one  of  the  privileged  young  men  who 
always  get  .special  privileges."  Tom  Swave's  mind  was 
sufficiently  acute  to  read  that  some  little  joke  lay  back 
of  this,  and  perhaps  none  of  the  company  had  been  so 
obtuse  as  not  to  notice  that  Frank.  Swave  had  been  par- 
ticularly attentive  to  her  all  night,  and  that  she  had 
not  specially  resented  his  advances. 

Walter  went  to  bed  to  dream  over  the  night,  to  con- 
trast in  his  own  mind  the  qualities  of  the  three  girls 
who  he  was  obliged  to  admit  had  produced  in  his 
heart  at  different  times  a  slight  sensation  ;  he  had  now 
all  before  him   on  the  same  evening,  and  finally  fell 


126  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

asleep  wondering  what  Sonthern  cousin  Bernards  had 
from  North  Carolina.  As  to  that  inqtiirj'^  he  did  not  have 
long  to  wait,  for  the  next  Monday  evening  Mart.  Ber- 
nard entered  their  sitting  room  with  a  young  man,  whom 
he  introduced  as  Andrew  Jackson  Clinton,  his  cousin 
from  North  Carolina.  He  was  a  young  man  of  the  tall 
spare  mould,  apparently  anywhere  in  age  from  twenty- 
two  Ito  twenty-five  years.  His  locks  were  rather  long, 
but  his  face  was  clean  shaven.  He  seemed  just  a  little 
brusque  in  his  manner,  although  he  spoke  in  the  most 
courteous  wa)-,  and  invited  the  most  frank  discussion 
of  all  matters  at  variance  between  the  two  sections  of 
the  country,  as  he  was  being  seated.  To  which  Mr. 
Graham  replied,  as  he  laid  away  his  overcoat  and  in- 
vited him  to  draw  nearer  the  stove,  "  I  suppose  from 
that,  your  Northern  relatives  are  taking  you  around 
as  a  kind  of  exponent  of  Southern  sentiment."  "  No, 
sir,  I  don't  know  that  I  am  that,"  replied  Mr.  Clinton. 
' '  I  have  been  brought  here  rather  by  Mart. ,  as  he  has 
told  me,  to  see  the  typical  Northern  man,  a  man  who 
superintends  his  own  business,  works  with  his  own 
hands,  brings  his  children  up  trained  in  the  same  wa}'. 
I  am  sure,  Mr.  Graham,  the  two  sections  of  our  country 
have  occasion  now^  to  learn  all  the}'  can  of  each  other. 
If  I  can  gain  anything  from  personal  observation  during 
this,  my  hurried  business  trip,  I  shall  consider  myself 
greatly  benefitted."  Mr.  Graham  said,  "I  thank  you 
certainly  for  your  invitation  to  be  frank  and  unreserved 
in  all  our  remarks,  and  I  suppose  it  brings  us  directly 
to  the  point  we  are  most  concerned  about  :  What  is 
the  actual  condition  of  .sentiment  in  the  two  .sections  of 
the  country  at  this  moment  ?  Your  remarks  suggest  a 
question  which  I  will  ask  right  now.     Are  you  sure 


THE    GATHERING   STORM  127 

that  you  could  invite  me  to  the  same  full  and  unre- 
served expression  of  all  my  sentiments  if  I  were  with 
you  in  your  own  home  to-night  in  North  Carolina,  in- 
stead of  where  you  are  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Clinton,  raising  his  thin, 
spare  hand  and  finger  in  gesticulation,  "you  could 
utter  any  opinion  you  entertained  on  any  subject 
(provided  it  was  couched  in  respectful  language), 
in  my  home  to-night,  or  in  my  father's  home,  more 
properly  speaking,  or  in  the  parlor  of  any  South- 
ern gentleman  in  North  Carolina,  that  you  can  here  in 
your  own.  That,  sir,  is  a  mistaken  idea  j^ou  people  of 
the  North  entertain,  that  a  Southern  gentleman  will 
molest  any  man  for  his  opinions  in  the  South.  Of 
course,  if  they  will  use  no  discretion  in  their  utterances 
about  hotels  and  in  public  places,  where  they  are 
likely  to  be  repeated  in  the  presence  of  the  slaves  them- 
selves, and  taken  up  by  irresponsible  fellows  who  make 
a  trade  of  politics,  perhaps  we  could  not  always  be  re- 
sponsible for  results.  No,  in  short,  it  is  only  the  public 
discussion  of  those  questions  that  the  South  objects  to. 
In  the  parlor  of  the  Southern  gentleman  you  have 
nothing  to  fear." 

' '  Your  answer,  I  must  say,  is  frank  and  satisfactory, ' ' 
replied  Mr.  Graham  ;  "more  so  indeed  than  I  had  ex- 
pected. It  contains  a  confession  of  a  weakness  I  had 
not  looked  for."  "Well,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Clinton, 
"  do  you  pretend  to  say  that  is  a  different  situation  of 
affairs  from  what  exists  in  the  North  ?  Do  you  say,  Mr. 
Graham,  that  I  can  go  across  to  the  hotel  in  your  vil- 
lage to-night  and  make  a  harrangue  to  the  rabble, 
uttering  the  extremest  Southern  views,  and  escape  un- 
harmed."    "Well,  sir,"   rejoined  Mr.   Graham,  "ex- 


128  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

tienie  as  the  case  is  which  you  suppose,  I  believe  you 
could.  What  you  might  do  in  case  it  comes  to  actual 
war,  that  is  another  question." 

"Then,"  said  Mr.  Clinton,  "  if  you  are  correct  in 
your  estimate,  the  character  of  your  lower  classes  is 
different,  simply  because  your  institutions  are  such  as 
not  to  threaten  you  with  momentary  insurrections  or 
violence  from  open  discussion.  And  if  you  reply  that 
we  have  no  right  to  have  such  institutions,  or  that  we 
ought  to  get  rid  of  them,  I  can  only  say  we  have  found 
them  among  us  in  the  South,  and  that  section  alone  was 
not  responsible  for  it  in  the  beginning."  "Just  so," 
said  Mr.  Graham,  "  the  last  part  of  your  answer  is  per- 
haps entitled  to  some  consideration  ;  and  I  take  it  that 
we  understand  each  other  now  on  that  branch  of  the 
question,  as  well  as  we  would  by  longer  discussion. 
Allow  me  then  to  ask  you  another  question.  Are  you 
actually  in  earnst  about  this  matter  of  secession  ?  Do 
you  actually  mean  to  resist  the  authority  of  the  na- 
tional government,  and  do  the  majority  of  the  people 
of  the  South  actually  propose  secession  ?  or,  is  there 
actually  no  Union  sentiment  among  you.?" 

Straightening  himself  up  in  his  chair,  raising  his 
two  white  hands  to  the  sides  of  his  face  and  ears,  and 
passing  them  up  through  his  well-kempt  hair  until  the 
fingers  of  the  two  hands  had  interlocked  each  other, 
then  drawing  them  back  a  little  behind  the  ears  and 
down  to  the  top  of  his  neck  and  bringing  each  down 
on  the  arms  of  his  chair,  with  some  emphasis,  he  said, 
"That  question,  Mr.  Graham,  I  trust  I  shall  answer 
with  equal  candor.  I  can  answer  it  best  perhaps  by 
speaking  from  my  own  feelings  in  my  own  heart  for  the 
old  flag.     I  can  conceive  of  nothing  but  that  dire  neces- 


THK    GATHERING   STORM.  129 

sity,  which  makes  revohition  justifiable  in  all  cases,  that 
will  warrant  the  South  in  open  rebellion.  I  am  not 
sure  but  that  my  feelings  are  the  feelings  of  quite  a  re- 
spectable minority  of  our  people  at  least.  But  on  the 
other  hand,  you  can  readily  see  how  the  South  must 
naturally  feel  on  the  question  of  the  absolute  denial  of 
their  rights  in  the  national  territories  ;  of  their  share 
to  an  equal  portion  thereof,  and  of  the  entire  disregard, 
not  to  say  defiance,  of  the  fugitive  slave  law  by  the 
Northern  people,  and  of  the  personal  liberty  bills  by 
the  Northern  States.  If  that  is  to  be  the  policy  of  the 
government  from  this  forward,  then  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  that  the  South  feel  they  have  nothing  to 
gain  by  remaining  under  it.  They  may  as  well  with- 
draw from  it." 

"Mr.  Clinton,"  replied  Mr.  Graham,  "conceding 
ever)'  premise  that  you  lay  down,  or  viewing  the  ques- 
tion entirely  from  your  standpoint,  that  the  policy  of 
the  government  is  hereafter  to  be  a  denial  of  what  j'ou 
call  your  rights  in  the  national  territories  and  a  laxity 
of  sentiment  on  the  part  of  the  North  in  the  enforce- 
ment of  the  fugitive  slave  law,  how  are  you  to  better 
your  situation  b}-  forming  a  separate  government?  " 

"Your  question,  Mr.  Graham,  as  to  what  will  be 
gained  by  separation  is  the  one  that  gives  us  pause," 
said  Mr.  Clinton.  "Added  to  that,  filial  affection  for 
that  old  flag  to  which  I  have  already  alluded,  makes 
some  of  us  desire  to  go  slow.  I  am  considered  at  home 
a  Union  man  and  entirely  too  conservative,  but  I  am 
stating  this  question  to  you,  Mr.  Graham,  as  I  see  it  in 
its  logical  bearings,  and  in  that  view  of  it,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  those  we  are  now  calling  hot  heads  in 
either  section    are   nearest    right.     That  is  to  say,  if 


180  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

there  never  can  be  peace  between  the  two  sections  we 
may  as  well  separate  in  peace.  Your  irrepressible  con- 
flict doctrine  in  fact  is  not  original  with  you.  John  C. 
Calhoun  promulgated  it  twenty  years  in  advance  of 
Mr.  Seward."  "Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Graham,  "with 
this  distinction  :  Calhoun  always  associated  with  it 
the  idea  that  the  conflict  can  be  avoided  by  peaceable 
secession,  as  you  term  it.  We,  of  the  North,  look 
upon  that  as  a  delusion.  This  now  brings  me  back  to 
a  part  of  my  original  question.  Are  you  going  to 
resist  the  general  government ;  in  short,  are  you  going 
to  fight  if  the  incoming  administration  refuses  to  sit 
tamely  by  and  permit  it?"  "Cannot  answer  your 
question,  sir;  can't  answer  your  question,"  responded 
Mr.  Clinton.  "I  can  only  say  for  my  own  part,  I 
dread  seeing  the  two  sections  of  our  country  plunged 
into  a  civil  war."  "Perhaps  you  are  only  trying  to 
scare  the  North,"  remarked  Walter  at  this  point; 
"  perhaps  you  think  that  by  bluster  and  secession  or- 
dinances the  North  will  back  down  and  let  you  go." 

"To  be  perfectly  frank  with  you,  young  man,  there 
may  be  some  people  in  the  South  who  entertain  that 
idea,  but  I  fear  the}-  are  hugging  a  delusion,"  was  the 
reply. 

"Well,"  said  Waltsr,  "that  is  what  some  of  the 
people  of  the  North  think  of  the  South.  I  heard  a 
young  lady  say  not  many  nights  ago,  that  the  South 
was  nothing  but  a  set  of  blow-horns.  She  did  not  be- 
lieve there  was  a  bit  of  fight  in  them.  She  thought  if 
the  man,  whose  name  you  bear,  were  President,  there 
would  be  but  little  talk  of  secession." 

"Yes,  well,"  replied  Clinton,  with  a  grim  smile,  "  I 
am  very  much   obliged   to   that   young   lady  for    her 


THE    GATHERING   STORM.  131 

opinion  of  the  Southern  people.  You  may  give  her 
my  compliments,  and,  while  I  do  not  blame  her  for  her 
opinion,  I  can  simply  say,  she  must  have  read  the  his- 
tory of  our  people  wrong  if  she  impeaches  their  cour- 
age. As  for  my  name,  I  have  been  twitted  a  good  deal 
about  it  since  I  came  North,  but  it  is  with  that  as 
with  slavery,  I  am  not  responsible  for  it.  And,  besides, 
our  young  lady  friend  should  remember  that  it  was 
a  Southern  name — one,  at  least,  that  was  never  charged 
with  lack  of  courage." 

"I  suppose,"  replied  Walter,  "the  opinion  she  en- 
tertains of  the  South  is  not  so  very  different  from  that 
which  the  South  entertains  of  the  North.  You  know, 
only  a  year  ago  Governor  Wise  said,  in  a  public  speech, 
that  he  could  take  ten  Southern  men  and  drive  a  whole 
regiment  of  Northern  creatures  back  into  Canada." 

"Young  man,"  exclaimed  Clinton  (this  being  the 
term  by  which  he  addressed  Walter  all  evening), 
"  Governor  Wise  may  be  as  badly  mistaken  as  the 
young  lad3\  You  hav^e  read  in  your  books,  no  doubt, 
a  great  deal  of  sentiment  about  Greek  meeting  Greek. 
I  have  a  much  greater  dread  just  now  of  Saxon  meeting 
Saxon  ;  American  meeting  American.  If  I  am  not 
mightily  mistaken,  it  will  take  more  than  ten  men  to 
drive  a  regiment  like  yourself  back  into  Canada." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Graham,  thoughtfully,  "you 
are  quite  right  in  your  views  of  this  talk  ;  talk  is 
cheap.' ' 

The  conversation  now  drifted  off  into  a  general 
social  form,  and  they  parted  about  ten  o'clock,  ex- 
tending quite  cordial  invitations  to  visit  each  other 
again  if  ever  chance  brought  them  together.  Mart. 
Bernard    remarked,    as    they    were    leaving,    "Well, 


132  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Audrew,  I  have  certainly  done  my  part,  and  brought 
you  to  see  the  typical  Northern  man." 

After  they  had  left.  Sue  asked,  "  How  is  it  they  are 
cousins?"  To  which  Mrs.  Graham  replied,  "Mrs. 
Bernard's  sister  married  this  young  man's  father— a 
Mr.  Clinton,  from  the  South.  You  remember  some- 
thing about  it,  don't  you,  Jacob?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  it,"  replied  Jacob;  "  they  made 
some  kind  of  investments  down  there,  or  some  of  the 
family." 

Walter  passed  through  all  these  experiences  and 
reached  safely  the  end  of  the  school  term,  as  has  been 
stated,  but  as  he  sat,  one  evening,  in  the  old  sitting 
room,  about  the  first  of  April,  after  all  was  over,  his 
mind  turned  to  Clinton's  visit,  and  he  remarked  to  the 
rest  of  the  family,  "  I  wonder  what  has  become  of  our 
rebel  friend  that  was  here  to  visit  us." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  he  is  down  at  his  home,"  replied  his 
father,  "in  pretty  hot  water,  from  what  Joseph  Ber- 
nard told  me  only  to-day.  I  guess  there  is  a  conflict 
of  interests  among  them  in  their  business.  There  is 
another  Northern  family  down  there,  it  appears.  Ber- 
nard thinks  there  is  a  kind  of  storm  gathering." 

"  Yes,  and  it  is  going  to  burst  some  of  the.se  days," 
replied  Mrs.  Graham. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE  MORTON  FAMILY. 

TT  was  the  last  Saturday  of  March,  1861.  The  day 
^  maintained  the  reputation  of  the  month.  In  the 
morning  it  blew  ;  at  ten  o'clock  it  snowed  ;  at  eleven 
o'clock  it  hailed  ;  at  twelve  o'clock  the  sun  came  out  ; 
at  one  o'clock  it  rained  ;  at  two  o'clock  it  sleeted  ;  at 
three  o'clock  the  sun  presented  itself  again  ;  at  four 
o'clock  it  was  again  hid  in  the  mist.  Whatever  else 
may  be  said  of  you,  old  calumniated  and  slandered 
March,  let  no  man  sa}-  that  you  lack  variety  in  the 
spices  with  which  you  season  the  weather.  Let  those 
people  who  like  a  variegation  of  colors  in  their  gar- 
ments, a  diversity  of  employment  in  their  business  and 
a  change  in  all  things,  bow  down  and  worship  at  your 
shrine,  rather  than  pour  execrations  on  your  head. 
Why  speak  of  you,  old  March,  as  something  harsh  and 
hard  ?  Was  there  not  something  soft  and  tender  in  the 
short  intervals  with  which  the  sun  broke  the  rule  of 
rain  and  snow  and  sleet  that  day,  and  let  his  mellow 
beams  fall  down  on  the  south  side  of  the  barn  and  mill  ? 
Surely,  old  mother  earth  was  in  her  softest  mood,  for 
there  was  scared}'  a  foot  of  ground  all  around  the  re- 
gion of  Graham's  buildings  that  would  not  have 
yielded  more  or  less  to  the  weight  of  Walter's  foot,  not 
even  excepting  the  matted  turf  which  covered  the  front 
yard.  To  be  sure,  this  condition  of  things  was  described 
bj'  the  horrid  word  mud,  rather  than  some  more  romantic 


184  WALTER    CxRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

name  ;  but  all  the  same  it  was  certainly  meant  in  kind- 
ness ;  nor  had  nature  dispensed  her  bounty  with  a  nig- 
gard hand,  for  there  was  mud  in  the  path  to  the 
mill,  there  was  mud  in  the  path  to  the  barn,  there  was 
mud  around  the  front  of  the  mill,  there  was  mud  at  the 
rear  of  the  wagon-shed,  there  was  mud  at  the  cabbage 
hole  in  the  garden,  there  was  mud  at  the  apple  hole  in 
the  orchard,  there  was  mud  to  the  front  of  them,  mud 
to  the  rear  of  them,  mud  to  the  right  of  them,  mud  to 
the  left  of  them  ;  but  it  neither  volleyed  nor  poured,  it 
neither  thundered  nor  roared.  It  was  perfectly  quiet, 
wonderfully  pliable,  even  plastic.  It  adhered  to  the 
men's  boots  with  a  tenacity  which  made  Mrs.  Graham 
say  she  believed  "it  was  everywhere."  To  which 
Walter  replied,  that  "it  was  a  fine  thing  it  had  one 
attribute  of  the  Deit}-."  Mrs.  Graham's  wit  was  in  no 
wise  eclipsed  by  this,  and  she  answered,  "Why,  cer- 
tainly; the  Creator  who  made  those  beautiful  coleuses 
(pointing  to  those  in  the  window),  made  the  mud  also." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  replied  Walter,  tapping  his  mother 
sportively  on  the  shoulder,  "According  to  both  theology 
and  science,  he  made  the  mud  first,  and  then  the  co- 
leuses." 

"Oh,  go  along  and  clean  off  your  boots,"  said  his 
mother,  raising  the  broom  stick  at  him  in  the  same 
sportive  manner,  as  both  smiled  the  smile  of  perfect 
understanding.  "  He  made  the  mud  to  be  kept  out  of 
of  doors  and  the  coleuses  to  be  in  the  house  in  winter 
time  ;  and  boys  to  clean  off  their  boots  well  before 
they  come  tramping  in,"  Mrs.  Graham  continued. 

"Yes,  yes,  just  so,  just  so,  Mrs.  Graham,"  replied 
Walter,  as  he  jumped  with  agility  around  his  mother, 
giving  her  a  parting  kiss  on  the  cheek,  "  I  understand 


THE    MORTON    FAMILY.  185 

tliorouglil)-;  I  thought  I  had  cleaned  them  off,  Ijut  you 
see  my  vision  was  a  little  defective  as  to  the  heels." 

"I  think  it  was,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  as  Walter 
made  his  exit  through  the  kitchen  door.  He  returned 
in  a  few  minutes  with  his  arms  full  of  wood,  which  he 
had  laid  down  in  the  fire-place,  saying,  as  he  entered 
the  sitting  room  door,  "  There,  mother,  I  brought  you 
something  more  essential  to  the  busy  housekeeper  than 
before. ' ' 

"You  thought  the  next  time  you  came  you  would 
try  and  have  your  mother  in  abetter  humor,  did  you  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Graham.     "  Yes,"  replied  Walter,  "  I  said, 
'  When  next  I  come  it  should 
Be  with  bended  arm  and  load  of  wood, 
And  hold  it  up  until  before  me  stood 
This  busy  mother  and  her  brood.'  " 
"Oh,  my,"  exclaimed  Sue,  from  behind  the  stove, 
"  I  think,  Walt.,  if  you  had  gone  to  that  high  school 
another  term  the  house  would  not  have  held  you." 
Walter  ran  up  to  Sue,  caught  her  by  the  head  and  pre- 
tended to  bump  it  against  the  wall  while  Joe  was  busy 
remarking,  "Oh,  yes,  you  ought  to  hear  him  out  aboitt 
the  barn,  going  over  his — 

'  But  when  I  come  again, 
I  come  with  banner,  brand  and  bow, 
As  leader  seeks  his  mortal  foe, 
Until  before  me  stand 
This  rebel  chieftain  and  his  band  ! '  " 
Whereupon  Walter  wheeled  immediately  and  gave 
his  attention   to    Joe  by  going   through   the  feigned 
effort  of  choking  him,  getting  through  only  in  time  to 
suppress    Mar}^    who   had    just   finished    remarking, 
"Oh,  yes,  Walt,  thinks   none  of   the  rest  of   us  ever 
heard  that.     He  has  been  studying  for  three  days  to 


136  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

get  up  a  parody  on  it."  To  her  he  gave  a  look  of  im- 
perial power  as  best  he  could  assume,  and  pointing  his 
finger  before  her  face,  exclaimed,  "Take  care;  I  tell 
you,  if  you  all  had  me  for  a  teacher  I  would  settle 
you."  "  You  would  be  a  great  person  to  settle  au}-- 
one,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  with  her  smile  of  latent  humor. 

"  I  guess,"  said  his  father,  "you  have  hardly  been 
settled  yourself ;  that's  what's  the  matter.  Have  you 
finished  all  that  work  I  set  j^ou  at  ?"  "  Yes,  father,  I 
have  it  all  done,"  replied  Walter;  "just  come  in  to 
play  you  a  game  of  checkers."  "  I  will  play  you  a 
game,"  came  simultaneoush*  from  the  mouths  of  the 
other  three  children. 

"  Well,  no,"  replied  his  father,  "  I  have  been  think- 
ing something  about  another  job  for  you.  How  would 
you  like  to  go  over  to  Mansdale  this  afternoon  yet?" 
"First-rate,"  replied  Walter.  "  Oh,  there  is  no  such 
violent  ru.sh  about  it  as  that,  is  there  ?"  said  Mrs.  Gra- 
ham. "  Well,  it  is  alread}-  as  late  as  I  generally  leave 
it,"  replied  Mr.  Graham  ;  "it  will  not  hurt  Walter,  I 
guess,  and  it  will  make  no  break  in  the  business  Mon- 
day morning  if  attended  to  now." 

"lam  in  for  it,"  said  Walter  ;  "perhaps  I  might 
see  Will.  Morton." 

"Yes,  I  know  you  think  you  might  get  out  of  the 
evening  chores,"  said  Joe  ;  "  I  will  have  them  all  to  do 
now." 

"Well,  it  is  to  Morton's  I  want  you  to  go,  at  any 
rate,''  continued  Mr.  Graham.  "Take  this  money  over 
to  him  and  have  him  receipt  it  on  the  mortgage,  and 
tell  him  that,  between  the  bad  weather  and  bad  cold  I 
have  had,  I  have  not  been  able  to  get  over  sooner." 

Walter  proceeded  to  take  his  leave,  and  to  don  his  best 


THE    MORTON    FAMILY.  137 

clothes,  which  his  mother  had  told  him  to  do,  if  he  was 
going,  and  to  be  sure  to  take  the  blanket  with  him  ;  to 
wrap  it  well  around  his  legs  and  to  tr)-  not  to  spoil  his 
clothes  any  more  than  possible  ;  and  to  be  sure  not  to 
stay  too  long  at  Morton's,  unless  he  was  invited.  To 
all  of  which  Walter  replied,  "Yes,  and  if  Will,  is  at 
home  he  wnll  invite  me  in,  and  if  he  is  not  I  don't 
care  to  stay."  He  was  all  ready  and  at  the  barn 
quicker  than  would  have  been  deemed  probable,  throw- 
ing the  saddle  and  blanket  on  Flora's  back,  with  her 
tail  bobbed  and  mane  properly  adjusted,  and  with  buck- 
skin gloves  on  his  hands  to  preserve  them  clean  ;  he 
slipped  the  bridle  on  her  head,  vaulted  into  the  saddle, 
and  started  gleefull}-  down  the  road.  It  was  still  mist- 
ing a  little  in  his  face,  but  he  was  unconscious  of  that, 
his  whole  mind  being  absorbed  in  the  thought  how  to 
urge  Flora  on  without  splashing  his  clothes  too  much, 
as  his  mother  had  cautioned  him,  and  wondering  why 
she  had  cautioned  him  against  staj-ing  too  long  at  Mor- 
ton's if  he  was  not  invited.  Did  she  think  him  so 
simple  as  that  ?  No,  he  knew  what  she  thought,  he  said 
to  himself,  but  he  felt  confident  he  knew  Will.  Morton's 
friendship  better  than  that.  He  would  wager  a  big 
apple  that  if  Will,  was  at  home  he  would  give  him  a 
cordial  invitation  to  stay  awhile.  As  he  went  on  down 
the  road  he  passed  Bowers'  residence,  and  saw  High, 
and  Ben.  both  standing  out  in  the  wagon  .shed.  They 
both  exclaimed  to  him,  "  Hallo,  Walt  ;  where  are  you 
going  in  the  rain  this  late  in  the  week  ;  come,  ride  in." 
Walter  rode  in  under  the  shed  for  a  minute,  answering, 
as  he  did  so,  "I  am  going  over  to  Mansdale."  "  What 
are  you  going  over  there  for  in  this  rain  ?"  asked  High. 
''  Oh,  I  am  going  to  pay  father's  interest  to  Mr.  Morton, 


138  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

replied  Walter.  "  He  must  be  in  a  hurry  for  it,"  replied 
Ben.;  "I  think  I  would  let  him  wait  for  it  another 
day."  "Oh,  it  is  a  wet  afternoon  ;  can't  do  anything 
else,"  said  Walter  ;   "  may  as  well  go  now." 

"  How  much  interest  does  your  father  owe  him?" 
queried  High.  "One  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  is 
what  I  have  in  my  pocket,"  replied  Walter.  "  The  in- 
terest on  two  thousand  dollars  that  would  be,"  replied 
High.  "I  suppose  so,"  rejoined  Walter;  "I  guess 
that  is  about  how  much  father  is  in  debt."  "  He  might 
have  had  that  debt  all  paid  off  by  this  time  if  he  had 
not  gone  on  improving  so  fast,"  was  the  information 
High,  now  offered  him.  "  Oh,  I  reckon  so,"  said  Wal- 
ter, "  I  don't  know  anything  about  that.  Father  says, 
'A  man  ought  not  to  own  a  farm,  who  is  not  willing  to 
improve  it  as  he  feels  able.'  " 

"Are  you  sorry  .school  is  done  ?  "  queried  Ben.  at  this 
point.  "Yes,  I  am,  I  have  not  got  quite  as  much 
schooling  as  I  would  like  to  have,"  was  the  quick 
reply.  "Great  pity  that  your  father  was  not  able  to 
.send  you  to  college.  What  would  you  like  to  make 
of  yourself  anyhow  ?"  was  High.'s  next  suggestion  and 
inquiry.  "  I  am  bound  to  be  a  lawyer  somehow  ;  if  I 
live,"  replied  Walter. 

"What  is  Tom  Svvave  going  to  be?"  a.skedBen.; 
' '  you  and  he  are  pretty  thick  and  he  is  a  pretty  smart 
boy,  too."  "Don't  know,"  replied  Walter;  "I  don't 
think  he  knows  himself,  but  he  is  qualified  to  be  any- 
thing he  wants."  "  Do  you  think  you  can  get  to  be  a 
lawyer  without  going  through  college?  "  was  High.'s 
further  interested  inquiry.  "Yes,  I  think  I  can."  re- 
plied Walter;  "  Professor  Baker  says  my  scholarship  is 
sufficient  now  to  be  admitted  if  I  can  not  go  to  .school 


THE   MORTON   FAMILY.  139 

any  more,  and  with  what  he  will  assist  iiie  and  what 
I  can  acquire  nij-self,  he  has  no  doubt  but  what  I  can 
get  through.  He  never  saw  a  boy  yet  determined  to 
make  a  point  but  that  he  succeeded  somehow. "  "Are 
either  of  you  going  to  school  any  more,"  asked  Walter. 
"Don't  know,"  said  High.;  "while  the  old  governor 
is  awa}^  in  the  Legislature  we  can't  get  him  to  talk 
about  school." 

"Well,  I  must  be  going,"  exclaimed  Walter,  "or  I 
will  not  get  to  Mansdale.  Good-bye,"  and  he  straight- 
ened himself  up  in  his  saddle,  laid  his  hand  on  Flora's 
neck,  which  was  the  given  signal  for  her  to  start  off  on 
an  easy  gallop.  As  he  galloped  on  he  began  thinking 
about  what  had  happened,  and  he  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  Bowers'  boys  knew  quite  as  much  now  about 
his  inward  thought,  his  future  prospects  and  his 
father's  business,  as  he  did  himself.  Whether  he  had 
been  a  bird  and  tumbled  straight  into  a  snake's  mouth 
he  did  not  know,  but  one  thing  was  certain,  he  felt 
he  had  been  drained  pretty  dry.  And  yet,  what  had 
he  said  or  done  that  he  should  be  ashamed  of?  Noth- 
ing, only  he  had  been  indiscreet,  unbosomed  himself 
to  those  who  he  felt  suspicious  were  not  his  true 
friends.  Maybe  his  mother  was  right.  He  would  be  a 
little  more  on  his  guard  hereafter  as  to  the  genuineness 
of  the  friendship  of  those  who  claimed  to  be  in  social 
life  above  him.  In  this  frame  of  mind  he  reached 
Mansdale  and  resolved  to  be  a  little  reserved,  even  with 
the  Mortons,  much  as  he  had  to  admit  he  liked  Will. 
So  hitching  Flora  under  a  shed  he  looked  around  at  the 
extensive  coal  yard,  lumber  yard,  and  warehouse,  which 
he  saw  were  Mr.  Morton's.  As  he  looked  up  the  street 
he  saw  the  largest  dry  goods  store   in   the  borough, 


140  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

which  he  also  knew  was  owned  by  him,  and  thought 
perhaps  he  might  be  a  silent  partner  in  that,  as  he  no 
doubt  was  in  Bernard's  business  at  Shocktown,  now 
grown  to  be  quite  extensive,  lie  remembered  also  he 
had  heard  that  Morton  was  likely  to  be  president  of 
the  bank  as  soon  as  old  Mr.  Herr  died,  who  was  sup- 
posed to  be  on  his  death  bed,  and  he  was  grossly  mis- 
informed if  there  were  not  other  farms  than  his  father's 
in  that  country  on  which  he  held  mortgages.  With  all 
these  facts  darting  through  his  mind,  he  entered  the 
counting  room  of  Mr.  Morton,  resolved  not  to  be  pert, 
but  to  stand  upon  his  dignity.  There  he  saw  Mr. 
Morton  seated  in  his  revolving  chair.  Walter  knew 
him  by  sight,  of  course,  but  he  now  had  an  opportunity 
to  take  a  closer  observation  of  him  than  he  had  in  his 
previous  transient  views.  He  saw  a  man  whose  age  he 
would  have  taken  to  be  anywhere  between  forty-five 
and  fifty  ;  perhaps  a  trifle  nearer  the  latter  than  the 
former  figures.  His  hair  was  slightly  sprinkled  with 
a  .silvery  gray.  His  stature  was  medium  in  height, 
and  proportioned  accordingly.  He  had  no  symptoms 
of  the  thin,  spare  build  or  nervous  temperament.  His 
action,  his  step  and  sentences,  all  seemed  not  too  slow, 
but  measured  rather  than  quick  and  nervous.  His 
forehead  was  oval,  his  face  clean  shaven,  and  the  re- 
semblance between  him  and  his  son  was  sufficiently 
marked  to  show  that  they  were  kinsmen.  As  he 
turned  in  his  chair  he  gave  Walter  a  polite,  "  How  do 
you  do,  .sir;  will  you  be  seated?"  As  Walter  entered 
the  room  he  felt  instantly  as  he  had  felt  when  he  first 
approached  his  son,  that  he  was  a  man  with  a  studied 
urbanity  of  manner  at  least.  There  was  nothing  to 
disconcert  or  aba.sli  him  as  yet  or  that  required  him  to 


THE   MORTON   FAMILY.  141 

assume  a  reserved  and  dignified  air.  Of  course,  it  was 
his  business  to  be  polite  in  his  own  office  if  he  desired 
custom.  He  would  therefore  not  undo  himself  too 
soon  ;  but  he  must  admit  that  he  felt  he  was  being 
captured  by  the  first  look  and  sentence  that  fell  from 
Mr.  Morton's  lips.  He  answered,  however,  with  the 
same  informal  but  polite, ' '  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Morton  ? 
Father  sent  me  over  to  pay  you  his  interest.  Perhaps 
you  don't  know  me — my  name?"  "Oh,  3'es,"  said  Mr. 
Morton,  with  a  bland  smile,  cutting  short  his  sentence, 
"  I  think  you  will  pass  for  young  Mr.  Graham." 

"  That  is  correct,  sir  ;  Graham  is  my  name,"  replied 
Walter,  with  a  similar  smile,  which  he  could  not  have 
prevented  with  all  his  effort  to  assume  the  austere,  and 
continuing,  said,  "  Father  sent  me  over  to  pay  you  his 
interest,  as  I  was  about  to  say.  He  said  you  should 
just  receipt  it  on  the  mortgage,  and  that  I  should  ex- 
plain that  the  rough  weather  and  the  bad  cold  he  has 
had  for  a  few  days  past,  have  kept  him  pretty  close  to 
the  house,  or  he  would  have  been  over  sooner. ' ' 

"  There  is  certainly  no  explanation  needed,"  rejoined 
Mr.  Morton.  "The  mone}'  is  not  really  due  yet;  he 
should  not  have  sent  anyone  over  on  this  kind  of  a  day; 
it  is  I  who  owe  the  apology." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  responded  Walter;  "but  father 
says  he  has  never  left  it  later  than  this,  and  he  don't 
like  to  put  off  things  until  the  last  minute." 

"  Yes,  I  understand,"  said  Mr.  Morton,  who  was  now 
handling  over  a  lot  of  papers  in  his  safe  ;  "  your  father 
is  a  very  prompt  man — as  much  so  as  any  I  ever  did 
business  with." 

Walter  was  now  captured,  body  and  soul.  He  was 
about  to  enter  into  the  most  unrestrained  conversation, 


142  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

and  ask  enthusiastically  for  Will.,  when  he  reflected 
long  enough  to  say  in  an  earnest  and  heartfelt  manner, 
"  I  thank  you,  Mr   Morton,  for  the  compliment." 

"  You  are  welcome  to  it,"  replied  Mr.  Morton,  "  for 
It  is  given  without  mental  reservation.  Your  parents, 
indeed,  I  know  to  be  not  only  prompt,  but  in  every 
respect  worthy  and  upright  people,  and  I  trust  I  have 
made  no  mistake  in  urging  your  father  not  to  pay  this 
debt  off,  but  to  build  his  mill  instead.  In  fact,  he 
would  have  paid  me  off  long  ago,  but  that  I  still  ad- 
vised him  to  make  what  we  thought  might  be  certain 
profitable  improvements." 

Walter  thought,  I  am  learning  a  good  deal  about  my 
father's  business  to-day.  This  is  twice  I  have  been  told 
why  he  is  still  in  debt,  but  with  some  difference  in 
the  two  standpoints  from  which  the  information  came. 
This  latter  fact  High.  Bowers  either  did  not  know,  or 
else  forgot  to  tell  me.  Perhaps  it  is  as  well,  he  thought, 
that  I  have  not  told  him  everything  about  father's 
affairs  ;  although  he  certainly  would  not  have  objected 
to  letting  him  know  this  additional  fact  while  he  was 
on  the  subject. 

Mr.  Morton,  now  entering  a  receipt  on  the  back  of 
the  mortgage,  continued,  "  I  will  just  give  j^ou  another 
receipt  in  addition  to  this,  Walter — I  believe  that  is 
your  name  ;  you  can  hand  this  to  your  father  for  his 
own  satisfaction  when  you  get  home.  I^et  me  see  ; 
Will,  is  about  some  place  ;  would  you  like  to  see  him  ? 
You  and  he  are  old  chums,  are  you  not?" 

Walter  replied  that  he  would  be  delighted  to  see  him. 
He  was  afraid  he  would  not  be  at  home. 

"  He  comes  home  about  every  third  vSaturda}*.  John, 
just  see  where  Will,  is,"  said  Mr.  Morton,  tapping  with 


THE    MORTON    FAMILY.  143 

his  pencil  on  the  window,  and  speakirg  to  one  of  the 
men  outside.  In  a  few  minutes  Will,  appeared,  all 
innocent  ot  the  nature  of  his  summons.  He  opened 
the  office  door  and  exclaimed,  "  Well,  hallo  ;  how  are 
you,  5'oung  Graham  ?  I  think  I  will  soon  have  to  quit 
calling  you  that.  Why,  you  are  growing  like  a  bitter- 
weed." 

"  I  am  very  well,"  replied  Walter  ;  "  how  have  you 
been  ?  I  think  I  have  been  pretty  fortunate  ;  I  see  you 
every  time  I  come  to  Mansdale." 

"Oh,  I  am  fortunate  in  seeing  you  every  time  you 
come,"  responded  Will.  "  You  have  met  with  father, 
have  you  ?  Father,  this  is  Walter  Graham,  who  sat  with 
me  at  school  last  winter.  You  have  heard  me  speak  of 
him."  "  Oh,  yes,  he  and  I  have  had  quite  an  acquaint- 
ance here  by  ourselves,"  replied  Mr.  Morton.  "  Yes," 
said  Walter,  ' '  It  appears  your  father  knew  me  before  I 
could  announce  myself."  "Well,  you  know  distin- 
guished men  must  expect  to  be  known  by  the  public," 
said  Mr.  Morton,  humorously.  "Yes,  indeed,"  added 
Will.;  "you  see  3'our  reputation  is  growing,  Wal- 
ter ;  whenever  it  becomes  known  in  Mansdale  you 
must  look  out  for  surprises."  Here  the  conversation 
became  so  spontaneous  and  general,  the  atmosphere 
became  so  warm  and  congenial,  that  Walter  accepted, 
without  hesitancy,  the  invitation  which  he  felt  sure  was 
sincere  from  Will,  and  his  father  to  have  his  horse  put 
away  and  stay  for  tea.  "  I  believe  it  is  going  to  clear 
off,"  he  said,  "  and  I  should  enjoy  an  hour's  talk  with 
you  ver}'  much." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Will.;  ''  there  is  no  excuse  what- 
ever. I  have  no  engagement  for  the  evening,  and  you 
and  I  will  have  such  a  joyous  time  talking  over  every 


144  WALTER    GRAHAM,  STATESMAN. 

little  incident  that  ever  happened  up  in  Shocktown  acad- 
emy. I  want  you  to  come  up  and  see  the  rest  of  the 
folks.  You  were  never  in  our  house,  were  you  ?  I  re- 
member what  a  pleasant  evening  I  spent  at  your  house 
once.  How  are  those  two  young  sisters  of  yours  ;  are 
they  both  well?  "  Walter  replied  that  they  were,  and 
that  Sue  could  play  much  better  on  her  little  melodeon 
than  she  could  when  he  was  there.  "  vShe  could  do  it 
very  nice  then,"  came  (juickly  from  Will.'s  lips. 

Mr.  Morton  had  now  called  once  more  at  the  win- 
dow to  the  man  whom  he  addressed  as  John,  and 
directed  him  to  "take  that  horse  in  the  shed  to  the 
barn  and  have  it  well  groomed  and  fed." 

The  man  proceeded  to  take  charge  of  F'lora,  and 
Will,  and  Walter,  after  taking  a  short  survey  of  the 
warehouse  and  yard,  proceeded  to  the  hou.se.  They 
walked  up  two  of  the  principal  squares  of  the  borough, 
then  about  a  square  to  the  left,  when  they  turned  to 
the  right  and  walked  about  another  half  square  across 
an  open  lot,  over  which  there  was  laid  a  board-walk, 
which  led  up  to  the  side  yard  of  a  substantial,  old 
stone  hou.se,  built  of  old  Pennsylvania  limestone,  and 
pointed  off  to  look  quite  artistic,  as  the  large  stones 
lapped  over  each  other  in  such  regular  irregularity. 
A  more  modern  brick  end  had  been  built  to  it,  whose 
second-story  windows  looked  a  trifle  higher  than  the 
old  ones  but  not  more  comfortable,  as  the  old  build- 
ing looked  just  old  enough  to  have  pleasant  memories 
associated  with  it  and  yet  not  antiquated  enough  to 
haunt  you  with  ghost  stories  and  murdered  men  buried 
in  the  cellar.  The  ivy  crawled  over  one  side  of  the 
wall  and  had  thrown  its  tender  sprigs  out  for  a  short 
distance  on  the  brick  part,  as  if  to  say,  how  far  dare 


THE    MORTON    FAMILY.  145 

we  come  on  this  new  territor}-.  The  side-yard  gate 
through  which  they  passed  was  about  twenty- iive  feet 
from  the  wall  of  the  building,  around  two  sides  of 
which  ran  an  open  hospitable  porch.  The  front  of  the 
building  stood  about  one  hundred  yards  from  the  pub- 
lic road  or  street,  and  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
walk  was  covered  with  a  long  grape-vine  arbor  with  its 
fancy  lattice  work  and  creeping  vines.  All  around  the 
yard,  which  extended  back  and  on  the  other  side,  were 
trees  and  shrubs,  and  flower  beds,  and  tufted  sods,  and 
little  nooks  and  corners,  and  out-buildings  to  the  rear, 
such  as  are  incident  to  an  old  farm-building.  The  barn, 
which  was  more  considerable  than  Walter  had  expected 
to  see  for  a  gentleman's  stable,  probably  stood  about 
two  hundred  yards  diagonally  to  the  rear  and  about 
the  same  distance  to  the  right ;  fronting  the  road 
stood  a  modern  new  frame  dwelling,  with  porches 
around  its  three  sides,  with  baj'  windows  on  the  south, 
and  surrounded  with  a  spacious  yard,  and  shrubbery, 
and  young  trees  of  probably  ten  years'  growth.  Oh,  I 
am  mistaken,  thought  Walter,  after  all,  over  there  in 
the  new  house  is  where  Mr.  Morton  lives  ;  but  as  they 
turned  into  the  gate  and  proceeded  for  a  short  distance 
along  the  walk,  ascended  the  porch  and  advanced  to 
the  other  side  entrance  of  the  old  house,  which  ad- 
mitted them  into  a  long  comfortable  sitting-room,  he 
found  his  first  impressions  were  confirmed.  The  look 
and  air  of  all  in  the  room  were  like  those  outside  ; 
neither  so  grand  as  to  freeze  j^ou  out,  nor  too  mean 
for  the  gentleman  of  real  wealth  and  culture. 

When  they  were  fairl}-  inside  Will,  asked  Walter  for 
his  overcoat  and  hat,  which  he  laid  away  for  him,  and 
then  said,  "  I  am  going  up  to  the  bath-room  to  wa.sh  ; 


146  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

do  you  prefer  to  go  along?"  Walter  replied  that  he 
would  like  to  wash  off  his  hands  and  face  a  little,  but 
he  could  do  that  out  here  at  the  pump  ver}'  well.  At 
which  Will,  caught  him  by  the  arm,  without  evincing 
the  slightest  appearance  of  amusement,  and  led  him 
upstairs  to  the  bath-room,  saying,  "We  have  all  got  in 
the  habit  of  just  going  to  the  bath-room  ;  it  is  really 
more  convenient." 

As  Walter  washed  the  mud  off  his  hands  and  face 
and  combed  up  his  hair  before  the  glass,  Will.  Morton 
could  not  but  say  to  himself,  "What  an  intelligent 
good-looking  face  it  is.  I  need  not  be  ashamed  to 
bring  it  into  the  famih'  after  all."  When  they  returned 
to  the  sitting-room,  Walter  was  presented  to  Aunt 
Mar}^  who  had  been  housekeeper  in  the  faniil}'  for  over 
a  dozen  years  Aunt  Mar}'  was  a  spry  young  widow 
of  forty-three,  who  had  buried  her  husband  some 
fourteen  years  ago.  Her  hair  was  very  much  the  color 
of  Mr.  Morton's,  and  slight  traces  of  silver  were  seen 
to  be  threading  it  here  and  there.  Her  general  form 
and  features  seemed  to  resemble  his,  save  that  they 
were  something  younger,  and  they  had  a  right  to,  for 
she  was  his  full  sister.  She  received  Walter  in  the 
most  gracious  manner,  bid  him  be  .seated,  with  a  kind 
inquiry  for  his  mother,  with  whom  she  claimed  a  slight 
acquaintance  in  their  earlier  days.  She  moved  about, 
doing  a  dozen  little  agreeable  things  at  once  and 
making  her  young  guest  feel  perfectly  at  home. 

Walter  had  understood  from  Will,  that  his  mother 
had  been  deceased  for  several  years,  and  that  Aunt 
Mary  had  been  housekeeper  ever  since.  Indeed  she 
had  almost  raised  the  children  ;  but  it  required  this 
ocular  view  for  him  to  understand  why  the  fresh  young 


THE   MORTON   FAMILY.  147 

bachelors  of  thirty  and  upwards  still  waltzed  around 
her  with  the  avidity  of  youth  ;  why  she  was  the 
center  of  many  a  social  gathering  in  Mansdale,  and 
how  the  impressions  made  on  a  certain  rich  old 
widower  of  sixty-four  had  never  been  reciprocated.  He 
was  shown  a  picture  of  a  bright  young  girl  in  her 
twentieth  year,  who  Will,  told  him  was  cousin  Ida, 
Aunt  Mary's  daughter  and  only  child,  who  was  now 
away  at  a  female  college.  His  further  inspection  of  the 
photograph  was  interrupted  b}'  the  arrival  of  Harry, 
the  younger  brother  of  Will.,  a  lad,  just  turned  fifteen, 
whose  complexion  was  a  little  more  of  the  blonde 
tha  neither  Mr.  Morton's,  Will.'s  or  Aunt  Mary's.  He 
was  more  quick  and  nervous  in  his  step  and  voice,  and 
showed  very  clearly  that  he  was  a  Bernard,  as  Walter 
thought  he  could  actually  see  his  resemblance  to  Maggie 
a  little.  Aunt  Mary,  who  had  retired  to  the  dining-room 
to  look  after  the  supper,  now  returned  to  the  room 
where  the  three  boys  were  conversing  ;  she  asked  Harry 
when  he  thought  his  father  would  be  home ;  then 
passed  through  to  the  hall  and  called  up  to  Blanch  to 
know  if  she  would  soon  be  down. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  door  opened  and  Will,  arose  to 
introduce  Walter  to  his  sister  Blanch.  She  was  a  young 
girl,  just  nineteen  months  older  than  Harry,  with 
black  hair  and  bright  complexion.  Her  eyes  were  a 
cross  between  blue  and  gray,  her  expression  a  kind  of 
mixture  of  the  sparkle  and  the  austere.  A  second 
glance, which  was  cut  too  short  for  Walter's  satisfaction, 
by  reason  of  the  second  glance  that  was  slipped  slyly 
up  to  him,  told  him  that  it  was  a  slight  tendency  on 
the  part  of  her  eyes  to  be  crossed  ;  not  enough  to  mar 
their    beauty,  but  just  enough  to    give  them  a   kind 


148  WAI.TKR    CtRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

of  penetration.  Her  figure  was  erect,  though  not 
haughtily  so.  She  received  him  cordially  enough, 
although  not  with  the  same  spontaneity  the  rest  of  the 
family  had  done.  Her  movements  were  graceful,  her 
voice  had  a  sufficient  mixture  of  the  clear,  the  crisp, 
and  the  soft.  The  genial  traces  of  her  father  were  on 
her  countenance  far  more,  Walter  conjectured,  than 
were  her  mother's,  and  he  saw  nothing  of  the  latent, 
tart  smile  that  .sometimes  played  around  Maggie 
Bernard's  lips.  It  would  have  pu/.zled  Walter  to  have 
described  in  detail  a  single  part  of  her  garment,  al- 
though, manlike,  he  had  his  clear  idea  of  the  general 
whole.  He  knew  that  the '  shade  of  her  dress  was 
rather  dark,  that  the  -material,  although  not  gaudy, 
was  rich.  Her  general  figure  might  not  have  been 
pronounced  by  most  young  fellows  quite  as  handsome 
as  Maggie  Bernard's,  he  thought,  but  he  w^as  half  in- 
clined to  believe  there  was  something  rather  more 
striking  in  her  countenance,  notwithstanding  she  was 
rather  less  communicative  than  the  rest  of  the  family, 
and  taken  all  together  perhaps  a  little  too  coy. 

When  they  were  all  seated  at  the  supper  table,  with 
Aunt  Mary  at  one  end,  Mr.  Morton  at  the  other.  Will, 
taking  his  seat  at  the  left  of  his  father,  and  Walter 
next  to  him,  at  Aunt  Mar3^'s  right,  Harry  immediately 
opposite  at  his  aunt's  left,  where  he  had  sat  from  the 
time  he  was  two  and  a-half  j'ears  old,  and  Blanch  to 
the  right  of  her  father,  Walter  could  perceive  that 
they  were  quite  a  handsome  and  cultured  family  ;  that 
Aunt  Mary  was  quite  fond  of  Harry,  and  that  Mr. 
Morton  turned  affectionate  glances  occasionally  to  his 
only  daughter,  while  Will,  assumed  the  dignit}^  of  the 
oldest    child.     It   required   no   great    discernment   on 


THE    IMORTON    FAMII-Y.  149 

Walter's  part  to  discover,  also,  that  while  the  Mortons 
were  Republicans,  there  was  a  far  more  conser\'ative 
policy  prevailing  with  them  on  the  momentous  ques- 
tion of  the  hour  than  in  his  father's  home,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  political  gospel  of  Mr.  Williamson,  to 
which  Walter  had  become  so  familiar.  ' '  What  does 
your  father  think  of  the  prospect  of  things,  Walter," 
asked  Mr.  Morton  ;  ' '  does  he  think  there  is  any  pros- 
pect of  a  peaceable  adjustment  of  affairs,  or  does  he 
think  there  will  be  war?"  "I  can  hardl}'  say,"  an- 
swered Walter,  "he  don't  say  much  about  it  the  last 
few  days.  He  says  he  is  prepared  for  anything  now 
except  compromise.  He  saj'S  he  don't  want  that;  he  is 
glad  Congress  expired  without  adopting  one." 

"That  is  all  nice  enough  in  sentiment,"  replied  Mr. 
Morton,  "but  he  must  remember  there  are  large  com- 
mercial interests  at  stake.  I  have  frequently  found  in 
business  it  is  better  sometimes  to  give  and  take  a 
little."  "Do  you  know  Mr.  Williamson,"  asked 
Walter  ;  "you  should  hear  him  on  this  question.  He 
looks  upon  any  concession  made  to  the  South  now  as 
the  greatest  calamity  that  could  befall  the  country,  not 
even  excepting  war  with  all  its  horrors. 

"Yes,  I  know  him,"  replied  Mr.  Morton,  "he  is 
very  radical  in  his  views." 

"He  is  so  considered,"  rejoined  Walter,  "but  I 
think  thoroughly  honest." 

"I  am  willing  to  concede  that,"  replied  Morton, 
"  but  an  erroneous  opinion  is  none  the  less  dangerous, 
because  it  is  honestly  held."  "  Ver}-  true,  that  in  fact 
would  make  it  all  the  more  dangerous  ;  the  onh'  ques- 
tion is,  are  Mr.  Williamson's  opinions  wrong?"  said 
Walter.      "  I  suppose  that  is  really  the  question,"  an- 


150  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

swered  Mr.  Morton."  Will.,  who  seemed  rather  less 
conservative  on  the  question  than  his  father,  said, 
"You  see,  father,  Walter  is  quite  a  champion  in 
debate  ;  he  can  take  advantage  of  a  weak  point  in  his 
adversary  with  wonderful  quickness." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  replied  Mr.  Morton,  with  a  smile.  A 
short  lull  followed,  and  Blanch  now  addressed  to 
Walter  her  first  direct  question,  as  follows:  "Do  you 
ever  see  an^lhing  of  Uncle  Joseph's  family,  Mr. 
Graham." 

"  Oh,  yes,  quite  frequently,"  replied  Walter  ;  "  I  see 
either  Mart,  or  Mr.  Bernard  nearly  every  day  ;  I  be- 
lieve they  are  all  well."  "  How  often  do  you  see  the 
girls,"  queried  Aunt  Mary,  with  a  benignant  smile. 
"I  .saw  Maggie  and  Phoebe  every  day  while  school 
lasted."  Blanch,  with  what  Walter  thought  wonder- 
ful tact  and  good  taste,  said,  "I  suppose  this  will  be 
Maggie's  last  winter  with  Professor  Baker."  "  I  could 
not  certainly  say,  but  I  rather  suppo.se  so,"  replied 
Walter. 

As  the}'  arose  from  the  supper  table  and  passed  into 
the  room,  Mr.  Morton  said,  "Now  Blanch,  you  can 
play  some  nice  music  for  Walter  and  the  rest  of  us." 
The  family,  at  this  suggestion,  all  passed  on  through 
the  sitting-room,  across  the  large  hall,  into  the  parlor. 
As  Walter  looked  aroiind  and  saw  the  upholstered 
chairs  and  sofas,  velvet  carpet,  and  costly  paintings  on 
the  wall,  although  the  room  was  well  aired,  cosy  and 
warm  and  the  furniture  sufficiently  disarranged  with 
all  evidence  of  having  been  used  and  not  kept  merely 
to  be  looked  at,  he  could  not  help  but  think  how  plain 
and  uninviting  his  mother's  clean  rag  carpet  and  old 
red  settee,  and  well-chosen  little  pictures  on  the  wall. 


THE   MORTON    FAMILY.  151 

must  have  seemed  to  Will.  Morton  the  night  he  was  at 
their  place.  But  still  he  was  surprised  to  feel  so  much 
at  home,  especially  when  Blanch  said  to  him,  "  Which 
kind  of  music  do  you  prefer,  Mr.  Graham,  the  piano 
or  the  organ  ?  "  "I  like  the  organ  best,"  was  Walter's 
instant  reply;  "  it  is  not  fashionable  to  say  so,  I  know, 
but  the  organ  has  such  a  soft,  sweet  tone,  compared 
with  the  piano."  Blanch  smiled  serenely,  as  she 
turned  to  the  organ  and  filled  the  room  with  the 
sounds  of  the  instrument  and  her  voice.  Soon  the 
young  folks  were  all  gathered  around  her  in  a  close 
circle,  chatting  merril}^  between  each  song.  As  the 
light  shone  through  the  window  from  the  other  house 
across  the  way,  Walter  remarked,"  When  I  came  up  I 
wondered  if  that  was  the  house  in  which  you  lived," 
to  which  Blanch  replied,  as  she  turned  over  the  leaves 
of  her  music,  "  Yes,  I  know  a  great  many  people  think 
that.  Father  built  that  house  for  Mr.  Jones,  the 
farmer.  Previous  to  that  we  used  to  board  some  of 
the  hands  ourselves,  but  it  made  so  much  trouble  and 
work."  "Why,  is  this  a  regular  farm  here?"  asked 
Walter.  "Oh,  it  used  to  be,"  replied  Blanch,  "but 
now  it  is  so  cut  up  into  lots,  and  has  been  sold  off  that 
there  is  not  much  left."  "Only  about  twenty-five 
acres  across  the  road  they  farm  now,"  added  Will. 
' '  I  thought  this  back  here  looked  like  an  old  farm 
house  originally,"  said  Walter. 

Blanch  smiled  and  said,  "I  suspect  you  thought 
that  was  the  nicer  house  of  the  two,  and  that  was 
where  we  ought  to  be  living."  "No,  I  did  not  think 
that,"  replied  Walter.  "I  thought  this  looked  like 
one  of  those  quaint  old  places  which  become  either  the 
retired  farmer,  the  gentleman,  the  scholar,  or  the  mer- 


152  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

chant  prince."  Blanch  looked  up  at  him  with  her  pene- 
trating eyes  and  honest  countenance  as  if  to  charge  him 
with  flatter}',  but  the  guileless  expression  she  saw  on 
Walter's  face  rescued  his  remarks  from  that  interpreta- 
tion, and  she  simply  smiled  and  said,  "Oh.  here,  let 
us  sing  the  Star  Spangled  Banner  next ;  that  is  appro- 
priate now;"  which  they  did,  the  two  boys  and  Aunt 
Mary  joining  in.  At  the  close  of  this  song,  Blanch 
turned  around  thoughtfully  to  Walter  and  said,  "  Do 
you  think  there  is  going  to  be  a  war  growing  out  of 
all  this  trouble?"  Walter  answered  her  with  equal 
thought,  saying,  "I  really  don't  know,  I  hope  not; 
that  is,  I  hope  we  will  not  be  driven  to  that  necessit}'." 
"Mercy,  I  think  it  would  be  awful,"  replied  Blanch. 
She  now,  at  Will. 's  suggestion,  sang  that  favorite  piece 
of  hers,  "  The  Stars  and  the  Dew  Drops  are  Waiting  for 
Thee."  She  began  at  once  and  filled  the  room  with 
the  sweet  melody  of  her  voice,  keeping  perfect  time 
with  the  organ,  as  she  reached  the  chorus  of  each 
verse,  which  was 

' '  The  stars  and  the  dew  drops 
Are  waiting  for  thee." 

Entertained  as  Walter  was,  he  now  reflected  that  it 
was  time  he  was  starting  for  home.  He  withdrew  to  the 
sitting-room  for  the  purpose  of  making  preparation. 
He  noticed  that  Mr.  Morton  had  alread}'  withdrawn  to 
the  library  to  enjoy  his  cigar.  Blanch  proceeded  to 
her  father's  room  and  woke  him  from  his  reverie  by 
gently  laying  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder  and  saying 
something  to  him.  Mr.  Morton  responded,  "  Be  seated, 
Walter,  until  5'our  horse  is  ready;  John  will  bring  him 
out  for  you." 


THE   MORTON    FAMILY.  153 

John,  who  seemed  to  be  always  ready,  reported  in  due 
time  that  Mr.  Graham's  horse  was  ready. 

Walter  bid  them  all  good  b3'e,  and  received  the  ac- 
companying invitation  to  come  and  see  them  again 
from  all  but  Blanch,  who  simply  wished  him  "safe 
home. ' '  He  thanked  her  and  started  out  once  more  into' 
the  night  air,  and  vaulted  into  the  saddle.  He  straight- 
ened himself  up  again,  not  with  a  feeling  of  defiance, 
as  he  had  in  Bowers'  wagon  shed,  but  with  a  feeling  of 
pleasure,  as  he  passed  out  of  Morton's  yard.  He  drew 
the  reins  slightly  on  Flora,  laid  his  hand  again  upon 
her  neck,  at  which  she  started  off  on  a  vigorous  trot. 
Her  action  and  step  said  plainly,  that  she  was  not 
started  home  with  an  empty  stomach.  She  arrived  at 
her  stable  door  a  little  before  ten  o'clock.  Walter  was 
in  the  house  by  ten,  where  he  reported  all  things  to  all 
the  family  except  Joe,  who  had  been  in  bed  an  hour 
ago.  He  did  not  go  separately  over  each  member  of 
his  family  and  compare  them,  to  see  if  there  were  not 
as  deep  traces  of  character,  of  individuality  and  of 
Christian  virtue  stamped  on  their  faces  as  on  the  Mor- 
tons, but  he  did  wonder  if  the  Mortons,  even  in  the 
absolute  privacy  of  their  home,  congenial  as  it  seemed 
to  be,  gave  wa}'  to  the  same  eas\'  frolicsome  mood  that 
the  Grahams  had  just  before  he  had  left  for  Mansdale. 
He  did  have  sense  enough  left,  however,  to  say  to  him- 
self, that  friendly  as  the  Mortons  had  been  to  him,  he 
must  be  brave  enough  in  the  very  inception  to  suppress 
every  emotion  in  his  heart  which  had  been  awakened 
by  the  sight  of  Blanch.  He  knew  enough  to  know 
that  she  was  destined  to  have  every  opportunity  of 
what  the  world  calls  society,  culture  and  high  accom- 
plishments.    She  would  always  be  at  heart  a  lady,  it 


154  WAI^TKR   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

was  true  ;  but  the  rich,  the  affluent,  the  presumptuous, 
the  cultured,  and  even  the  so-called  great,  who  were 
sure  to  be  rivals  for  her  hand,  were  a  certain  bar  to 
any  aspirations  of  his  in  that  direction.  No,  sir  ;  that 
thought,  he  correctly  reasoned,  may  as  well  receive  its 
quietus  at  once.  He  went  to  his  own  plainly-furnished 
room  to  retire,  where  he  found  Joe  lying  diagonally 
across  the  bed,  sound  asleep.  He  caught  him  by  the 
legs,  straightened  him  out,  and  made  room  for  himself 
at  his  side.  He  lay  down,  looked  out  of  the  window, 
saw  the  stars  shining  and  the  dew  drops  sparkling,  and 
he  uttered  in  an  audible  whisper,  the  word,  Blanch. 
Where  did  they  get  that  name  ?  There  was  no  harm, 
surely,  in  asking  that  question.  He  could,  with  perfect 
safety,  he  thought,  tread  thus  far  on  the  forbidden 
ground.  Blanch  Morton — it  had  a  poetic  tinge.  Oh, 
yes  ;  he  remembered  now  :  "  Blanch,  Blanch,  the  poor 
girl,  met  an  untimely  death,  in  Scott's  Lady  of  the 
Lake,  from  which  he  had  been  quoting  so  profusely 
of  late.  Yes,  the  arrow  just  passed  Fitz  James'  breast 
and  pierced  hers.  Alas  !  he  said,  has  this  Blanch  shot 
forth  an  arrow  from  those  penetrating  eyes  of  hers 
that  has  lodged  straight  in  my  heart  ?  If  so,  I  will 
imitate  the  example  of  the  great  Julian,  who,  expiring, 
drew  the  arrow  from  his  heart  and  implored  his  fol- 
lowers to  fight  to  the  death  and  stand  by  the  religion 
of  the  gods. ' '  He  would  now  dash  this  insidious  dart 
aside  and  move  on  to  his  great  purpose. 

So  resolving  and  so  musing,  he  fell  asleep  ;  but  down 
in  the  coveted  White  House,  at  the  nation's  capitol, 
Abraham  Lincoln  had  just  dismissed  his  last  official 
visitor,  and  picked  up  Gen.  Scott's  letter  to  read  it  for 
the  third  time.   It  told  him,  in  substance,  that  owing  to 


THE   MORTON   FAMILY.  155 

the  startling  revelations  that  had  come  to  him  during 
the  last  twenty-four,  hours,  he  had  deemed  it  proper  to 
suggest  the  temporarj^  abandonment  of  Fort  Sumter. 
He  laid  the  letter  down  on  the  desk,  and  himself  on 
a  lounge,  but  arose  again  in  a  few  minutes  and  walked 
the  floor  to  keep  down  the  hot  fever  that  was  burning 
in  his  brain.  He  felt  from  that  hour,  with  increased 
acuteness,  if  possible,  the  great  weight  that  had  fallen 
on  his  shoulders.  He  saw  so  clearly,  from  that  day 
forward,  the  bloody  carnage  through  which  his  country 
would  have  to  pass,  and  said  :  "  O,  God  !  have  mercy 
on  me  and  my  poor  country,  and  grant  us  both  the 
power  to  bear  it."  He  commenced  to  answer  the  letter 
of  Secretary  Seward,  in  which  he  had  practically  asked 
him  to  abdicate  his  office  in  his  favor.  He  saw  clearly 
that,  from  this  hour  forward,  he  alone  would  be  held 
responsible  for  the  acts  of  the  government ;  that,  from 
this  hour  forward,  his  will  alone  should  construct  the 
policy  of  his  administration  ;  that  he  had  been  inviting 
his  cabinet  long  enough  to  deliver  written  opinions  on 
different  matters,  that  he  might  take  the  measure  of 
their  minds.  It  was  high  time  for  him  to  make  mani- 
fest what  he  had  felt  conscious  of  for  some  time,  that 
his  own  mind  was  the  master  of  them  all.  The  morn- 
ing light  peeped  through  the  curtains  and  saw  his  face 
haggard  and  careworn,  for  he  had  not  closed  his  eyelids 
in  sleep.  The  morning  light  peeped  through  the  cur- 
tains in  Walter  Graham's  bed-room  and  fell  upon  his 
face,  all  radiant  and  bright,  for  he  had  just  awoke  from 
a  refreshing  sleep  and  pleasant  dreams  of  the  Morton 
famil}'. 


CHAPTER    X. 

THK  lURSrF.D  STORM. 

DOWN  in  the  State  of  North  Carolina  some  place,  as 
near  as  it  is  now  possible  to  tell,  anywhere  from 
fifty  to  one  hundred  miles  from  the  sea  coast,  and  about 
the  same  distance  from  the  city  of  Wilmington,  stands  a 
certain  Southern  mansion.  In  fact,  if  you  would  start 
from  that  city  and  sail  up  the  Cape  Fear  River,  about 
the  distance  spoken  of,  it  is  within  the  range  of  possibil- 
ities that  you  might  pass  not  more  than  five  or  ten  miles 
from  the  particular  spot  now  alluded  to.  At  all  events, 
either  tradition  or  some  of  the  friends  in  interest  have 
gone  so  far  as  to  locate  it  on  the  west  of  the  river,  about 
eight  miles  from  it,  on  a  considerable  little  stream  that 
flows  thereinto.  It  is  safe,  therefore,  to  assume,  from 
the  description  of  these  interested  friends,  that  it  is  far 
enough  west  to  be  out  of  the  miasma  and  all  the  debili- 
tating influences  of  the  great  "Dismal  Swamp,"  but 
not  far  enough  west  to  be  subject  to  the  snow  and 
rigors  of  the  mountain  district ;  but  in  that  happy 
mean,  between  the  lowland  and  the  upland,  not  far 
from  the  thirty-fifth  parallel  of  latitude,  where  there  is 
such  a  happy  coming  together  of  winter  and  summer  ; 
where  this  genial  meeting  of  latitude  and  altitude 
have  produced  such  a  general  merging  of  interests  and 
variety  of  products,  of  sweet  potatoes  and  tobacco,  of 
cotton  and  corn,  of  the  tar,  the  pitch,  turpentine,  rosin 
and  lumber,  all  so  peculiar  to  the  Old  North  vState. 
Some   accounts   said  that   it  was  not   more    than    ten 


THE    BURSTED   STORM.  157 

miles  from  Fayettesville  ;  some  said  it  was  as  far  as 
seventy-five  and  others  only  fift}'  miles  from  Raleigh, 
the  capitol  of  the  State.  At  all  events,  as  you  ap- 
proached it  with  private  conveyance,  after  emerging 
from  a  large  tract  of  pine  timber,  through  which  a 
long,  narrow  road  had  led  you  to  a  small,  open,  cleared 
fiel9,  crossed  over  the  creek,  moved  on  for  about  one- 
fourth  of  a  mile,  gradually  ascending  until  you  reached 
the  brow  of  a  moderate  hill,  where  the  cleared  land 
again  broke  all  around,  j^ou  saw  this  ideal  Southern 
mansion.  It  was  in  the  centre  of  a  large  tract  of  land, 
some  seven  hundred  acres  or  more  ;  around  and  about, 
extending  down  the  creek  and  back  to  other  wood- 
lands, were  numerous  negro  huts,  a  saw  mill,  a  cotton 
gin,  tar  and  turpentine  industries,  and  other  dwellings, 
not  greatly  inferior  to  the  central  mansion. 

Ivike  most  homes  of  the  first  families  of  the  South, 
it  had  a  name.  That  it  was  owned  principally  by 
Northern  men  and  the  businesses  carried  on  about  it 
were  run  principally  b)'  Northern  capitol,  did  not  pre- 
vent it  from  having  that.  The  appellation  by  which 
it  was  dignified  was  Mount  Airy.  Whether  it  was 
because  of  the  elevation  on  which  it  stood  or  the  salu- 
briousness  of  the  atmosphere  that  had  suggested  the 
name,  is  not  clear.  One  thing,  however,  is  certain, 
some  of  the  residents  of  this  plantation  were  airing 
themselves  considerably  as  to  their  political  opinions 
on  a  certain  occasion.  The  occasion  was  the  15th  of 
April,  1861,  three  days  after  the  firing  on  Fort  Sumter 
and  the  bursting  of  the  war  cloud  all  over  the  country; 
the  bursting,  perhaps  more  properly  speaking,  of  the 
hope  of  peace  and  the  unification  of  the  sentiment  of 
war  upon  the  one  and  the  other  side  ;  but  the  genera- 


158  WALTRR   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

tioii  that  passed  through  it  remember  too  distinctly,  and 
the  generation  that  has  been  reared  since,  have  been 
told  of  it  too  thoroughly,  to  waste  any  time  describing 
it  now.  The  uprising  of  the  North,  the  pouring  forth 
of  the  troops,  the  disappearance  of  the  peace  party, 
the  indignation  at  the  South,  and  the  determination  to 
uphold  the  Union,  the  equal  suppression  of  all  opposi- 
tion to  secession  in  the  South,  the  activity  of  their 
movement,  the  assurance  of  their  leaders,  and  the 
dreams  of  power  and  victory  that  arose  before  their  ex- 
cited vision,  have  all  been  elaborated  by  historians 
so  thoroughl}-  as  to  need  only  a  passing  glance,  while 
the  attention  is  called  more  particularly  to  the  little 
particular  storm  that  took  place  at  this  particular  man- 
sion on  that  particular  day. 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  the  old  man,  with  the  gray  beard, 
walking  the  porch  of  this  mansion  and  addressing  him- 
self to  two.other  gentlemen,  and  a  few  ladies  who  were 
listening  at  the  window,  ' '  Reed  has  got  to  be  sup- 
pressed. The  idea  that  we  are  going  to  nourish  and 
foster  a  live,  loud-mouthed  traitor  to  our  country  and 
sympathizer  with  the  North  in  our  own  household, 
is  simply  preposterous.  I  am  in  favor  of  giving  him 
his  choice,  either  to  enlist  in  the  Confederate  army 
or  leave  the  country,  branded  as  a  spy,  within  the  next 
twenty-four  hours. ' ' 

"  Mr.  Morgan,"  spoke  up  another  man,  of  about 
fifty-five  years  of  age,  and  the  occupant  of  the  house, 
"  I  am  equally  in  favor  of  having  him  suppressed,  but 
the  trouble  is,  it's  not  we  that  are  nurturing  him  so 
much  as  he  and  his  friends  that  have  been  nurturing 
us.  If  we  send  him  away,  and  our  friends  in  the 
North  commence  foreclosing  mortgages  and  demanding 


THE   BURSTED  STORM.  159 

divisions  of  property,  it  may  be  worth  while  to  con- 
sider the  positions  we  will  be  left  in." 

"  I  say  to  you,  Clinton,  and  more  especially  to  your 
son  Andrew,  right  here  on  this  porch,  that  Reed  shall 
be  suppressed,"  rejoined  Morgan.  "  You  must  remem- 
ber I  have  some  interest  in  this  property  as  well  as 
you,  and  I  never  have  wavered  in  my  opinions  for  mer- 
cenary considerations,  and  I  never  will.  I  have  no 
terror  of  their  mortgages  and  foreclosures  and  divisions 
of  interest.  Sir,  there  is  not  a  reputable  lawyer  in  the 
State  of  North  Carolina  who  would  represent  these 
Northern  tyrants  in  their  cause  while  the  country  is  in 
a  state  of  war ;  besides,  war,  sir,  absolves,  for  the  time 
being  at  least,  all  obligations,  either  public  or  private. 
No,  sir;  we  can't  maintain  a  traitor  here  from  the 
North,  even  under  the  pretext  of  property  rights.  He 
can  either  acquiesce  in  the  measures  of  our  country,  or 
leave  it  and  trust  to  such  equitable  adjustment  of  his 
financial  rights  as  may  be  accorded  to  him  at  the  close 
of  hostilities." 

"  I  acquiesce  entirely  in  the  measure,"  responded  the 
older  Clinton,  "  that  if  he  declines  to  enlist  or  to  sup- 
port the  flag  of  our  countr}',  he  be  told  to  leave  it, 
with  the  understanding  that  we  will  meet  him  upon 
liberal  terms  as  to  his  property  rights  at  the  clo.se  of 
hostilities,  which  I  don't  think  will  last  long.  I  will 
write  to  that  efiect  to  our  friends  in  the  North,  as  my 
wife  has  already  written  to  her  sister,  that  we  shall  hold 
them  as  we  hold  the  rest  of  mankind — enemies  in  war, 
in  peace  friends." 

"Yes,  but  remember,"  said  old  Morgan,  "there  is 
but  one  way  in  which  he  can  assure  us  of  his  loyalty  to 
our  cause,  that  is  by  enlisting  in  the  Confederate  army. ' ' 


160  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Andrew  J.  Clinton  now  addressed  Mr.  Morgan,  say- 
ing, "That  method  of  convincing  you,  you  may  rest 
a.ssured,  Mr.  Morgan,  Reed  will  never  acquiesce  in,  or 
I  am  mightly  deceived  in  the  man.  In  fact,  he  would 
lower  himself  immensely  in  my  opinion  if  he  would. 
I  insist,  therefore,  on  one  other  consideration,  that  he 
be  allowed  to  remain  by  taking  a  regular  obligation  to 
obe}'  the  laws  of  neutrality  as  any  other  alien  might 
do,  or  if  he  does  depart,  that  he  shall  be  allowed  to 
start  sufficiently  provided  for,  and  that  he  be  given 
safe  conduct  through  our  lines. ' ' 

Mr.  Reed,  the  person  under  controversy,  a  man  of 
about  forty-two  years,  with  a  business-like  air  about 
him,  had  now  arrived,  face  to  face  with  his  accusers,  in 
obedience  to  their  request,  and  upon  having  their  alter- 
natives presented  to  him,  said,  "  Gentlemen,  the  idea, 
the  suggestion  that  I  should  enlist  under  this  flag  of 
treason,  this  banner  of  hell,  this  new^  and  hateful 
emblem  of  sedition  and  slavery,  is  simply  insulting. 
How  it  is  that  you  could  have  conceived  of  any  such 
idea,  or  dreamed  for  a  moment  that  such  a  thing  was 
possible,  I  cannot  understand.  I  have  gone  to  the 
farthest  extent  conscience  will  permit  b}^  pursuing  a 
policy  of  strict  neutrality,  of  perfect  silence ;  but 
beyond  that  it  is  simply  impossible  to  expect  any  .self- 
respecting  Northern  man  to  go.  As  for  my  own  small 
interest  in  this  plantation,  I  have  long  since  made  up 
my  mind  that  it  was  gone,  and  would  have  left  your 
State  long  ago,  but  for  the  fact  that  I  am  here  as  the 
guardian,  the  trustee  of  my  friends  in  the  North,  of 
Messrs.  Morton  and  Bernard,  who  have  placed  their 
confidence  in  me,  and  who.se  interest  I  will  not  betra}^ 
without  at  least  an  effort  to  maintain  it." 


THE    BURSTED   STORM.  161 

These  words  were  spoken  with  all  the  deliberation 
of  a  well-matured  purpose,  although  the  voice  was  a 
little  tremulous  with  excitement,  and  they  caused  a 
feeling  of  surprise,  if  not  a  little  terror  on  the  minds 
of  the  two  older  men,  while  the  younger  one,  the 
cooler  of  the  three,  gave  Reed  a  look  rather  of  friendly 
admonition,  as  if  to  say,  "  Perhaps  it  would  have  been 
better  for  5'ou  not  to  have  expressed  yourself  quite  so 
strongh'." 

Morgan,  advancing  now  a  little  towards  Reed,  draw- 
ing one  hand  down  over  his  gray  beard,  and  his  face 
flushed  with  rage,  said,  "Sir,  I  don't  like  such  inso- 
lence from  a  man  who  is  here  by  our  leave.  We  called 
you  here  to  talk  reasonably,  to  give  you  friendly  means 
of  escape  if  yon  would  not  endorse  our  cause  ;  but  now 
you  have,  by  your  own  conduct,  burned  every  bridge 
behind  you.  You  have  relieved  us  from  every  obliga- 
tion we  owe  you.  Don't  look  to  us  for  protection  if 
you  .receive  a  visit  from  our  vigilance  committee  to- 
night." He  here  turned  on  his  heel,  gave  a  wave  of 
his  hand,  as  if  to  say  the  conversation  was  closed. 

"One  word,"  exclaimed  Reed.  "I  have  nothing 
further  to  add,"  said  Morgan,  with  imperial  voice. 

"We  are  not  men  who  waste  words,"  interposed  the 
elder  Clinton  ;  "I  take  it  that  enough  has  been  said  ; 
you  understand  the  situation."  And  they  both  turned 
to  go. 

"One  moment,  I  say,"  repeated  Reed,  with  deep 
agitation  in  his  voice,  and  drawing  a  six  shooter  from 
his  pocket,  he  discharged  one  of  the  balls  through  the 
board  fence.  At  the  report  of  this  the  two  older  men 
halted,  turned  and  looked  upon  Reed  with  a  look  not 
unmingled  with  fear.     The  girls  screamed,  Mrs.  Clin- 


162  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

ton's  face  turned  the  color  of  chalk,  and  the  3'oung  man 
stood  unmoved.  "  You  sent  for  me,"  said  Reed  ;  "  now 
will  you  please  hear  me  through  ?  I  did  not  want  to  have 
to  hold  3'Our  attention  by  this  method,  but  perhaps  it  is 
as  well  that  we  have  it  all  out  now;  that  you  understand 
me  quite  as  thoroughly  as  I  understand  you,  and  what 
your  vigilance  committee  means.  You  are  convinced 
now,  are  you,  that  there  is  powder  and  lead  in  those 
barrels  ?  I  have  two  others  besides  these  with  me.  You 
see  the  hole  that  it  has  burned  in  that  board  ;  it  will 
make  the  same  kind  of  a  one  in  the  heart  of  a  man  ; 
and  I  have  been  considered  a  fairly  good  marksman 
from  the  time  I  was  a  boy ;  therefore,  what  I  want  to 
say  to  you  is  entirely  for  5'our  own  benefit.  Please  don't 
have  any  of  your  own  personal  friends  or  connections 
on  the  vigilance  committee  to-night,  for  they  will  surely 
have  cause  to  regret  it ;  besides,  sir,  you  need  not  have 
gone  to  the  trouble  of  informing  me  now  that  they 
might  wait  on  me  to-night.  They  were  there  last  night, 
and,  as  I  veril}'  believe,  with  your  knowledge  and  ap- 
proval. They  informed  me,  themselves,  that  I  should 
be  either  a  .soldier  in  the  rebel  army,  or  leave  the  coun- 
try by  another  night.  1  answered  them,  as  I  answer 
you  now,  that  I  would  do  neither.  I  am  not  only  a 
man  of  few  words,  as  you  claim  to  be,  but  I  am  a  man 
of  peace.  I  will  now  have  it,  if  I  have  to  enforce  it 
with  these  revolvers  ;  but  now,  sir,  il  we  have  all  be- 
come composed  enough  to  talk  the  matter  over,  what  I 
have  to  propose  is  this  :  first,  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  to 
suppose  that  you  can't,  ultimately,  drive  me  out  of  the 
State,  and  murder  me  and  my  family.  Therefore,  I 
a.sk,  as  a  matter  of  right,  as  well  as  the  respect  due  an 
honest  foe,  that  my  time  of  starting  be  extended   at 


THE   BURSTED   STORM.  163 

least  another  twenty-four  hours,  that  ni}'-  family  may 
make  something  like  comfortable  preparation  ;  that  I 
have  an  equitable  division  of  the  available  assets  of  the 
firm  now,  in  bonds ;  that  I  have  an  agreement  in 
writing  to  make  an  equitable  adjustment  of  all  matters 
at  the  close  of  hostilities,  and  that  I  shall  be  guaran- 
teed safe  conduct  outside  of  the  limits  of  your  so-called 
Confederacy." 

"By  Heaven,  his  terms  are  just  and  reasonable," 
said  young  Clinton,  who  was  the  first  to  break  the 
silence  after  Reed  had  finished  ;  "I  am  in  favor  of 
every  one  of  them  being  granted,  and,  whether  they 
can  all  be  effected  or  not,  I  will  stand  sponsor  for  you, 
Mr.  Reed — for  your  faithful  performance  of  the  con- 
tract, and  give  you  my  guarantee  that  no  vigilance 
committee  will  wait  on  you  to-night." 

"Andrew,"  said  his  father,  "you  take  a  heap  on 
you  for  one  of  your  years,  and,  besides,  you  talk  all  the 
time  as  if  you  were  half  afraid  of  these  Northern  mud- 
sills." 

"And  father,"  responded  Andrew,  "you  talk  as  wide 
of  the  mark  as  Mr.  Morgan  and  the  rest  of  the  enthu- 
siasts. It  is  easy  to  sit  here  at  home  and  talk  about 
Northern  mud-sills  ;  that  hostilities  won't  last  long, 
and  that  the  Confederate  States  of  America  are  an  estab- 
lished fact  on  the  map  of  the  world  ;  but.  to  go  forth 
and  establish  it,  that  is  quite  another  thing.  Sir,  I 
have  loved  the  land  of  my  nativity,  the  State  of  my 
birth  and  our  sunny  vSouth,  with  the  devotion  of  a 
child.  Ill-advised  as  I  think  her  course  has  been, 
much  as  I  have  done  in  my  humble  capacity  to  avert 
it,  a  filial  affection  for  her  sends  me  out  to-morrow  to 
obey  her  behests,  to  enlist  in  her  ranks,  to  fight  her 


164  WAT/rRR   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

battles,  and  to  do  what  I  can  to  make  the  Confederate 
vStates  of  America  a  reality.  But  in  doing  so,  I  finnly 
believe  I  am  going  forth  into  a  severe  and  bitter 
struggle,  in  which  the  courage  and  valor  of  the 
vSouthern  people  furnish  me  the  guarantee  that  we 
shall  ultimately  win  ;  but  I  know  equally  well,  as  I 
know  I  have  an  existence,  that  it  will  be  only  after 
weary  months,  perhaps  years  of  blood  and  toil,  of 
homes  made  desolate,  of  families  and  kindred  separated 
and  divided,  and  of  hearts  rent  with  sorrow.  I  know  that 
you  and  Morgan  and  many  of  our  leaders  in  high  posi- 
tion have  filled  the  people  with  the  idea  that  there  is  a 
large  portion  of  the  North  that  sympathizes  with  us  ; 
that  there  is  a  Southern  sentiment  in  the  city  of  New 
York  alone  that  can  save  us  from  harm  while  we  rear 
our  new  edifice ;  but  let  me  beseech  5'ou  to  dispel  that 
delusion.  Sir,  I  have  misread  the  people  of  the  North  in 
my  sojourn  amoi.g  them,  and  with  our  friends  there  in 
the  winter,  if  the  peace  party,  the  s^-mpathizers  with 
the  South,  has  not  as  thoroughl}-  melted  away  and  dis- 
appeared already  as  has  au}^  Northern  sentiment  among 
us,  I  know  you  thought  that  the  government  at 
Washington  would  not  even  resent  our  assaults  ;  that 
she  would  treat  for  peace  from  the  start,  and  now  you 
are  confronted  with  the  fact  that  already  lyincoln  has 
called  for  seventj^-five  thousand  troops  to  uphold  the 
flag  of  the  Union,  and  they  are  responding  from  all 
sections.  No,  sir  ;  all  this  means  war  and  no  other 
word  defines  it.  And  as  regards  the  matter  of  Mr. 
Reed,  about  which  we  were  assembled,  he  has  simply 
lived  here  a  peaceable  and  unobtrusive  life  for  four 
years  with  us,  a  party  in  interest,  who  niereh'  asks  now, 
in  this  state  of  open  war,  to  be  allowed  to  depart  in 
peace  (with  a  proper  adjustment  of  his  rights)  to  his 


THE   BURSTEU   STORM.  165 

native  country  with  which  he  sympathizoe.  I  say,  by 
all  that  is  fair,  by  all  that  is  reasonable  and  right,  he 
should  be  allowed  to  do  it. ' ' 

Although  his  whole  manner  had  been  earnest  and 
solemn,  young  Clinton  uttered  his  last  sentence  with 
that  peculiar  flash  of  the  eye  and  emphasis  of  his  long, 
slim  white  hand  and  finger  which,  it  was  perfectly 
plain,  impressed  the  two  older  men  with  the  thought, 
that,  perhaps,  they  might  as  well  acquiesce.  Old  Mor- 
gan stroked  his  beard,  showed  signs  of  suppressed,  rage, 
and  deigned  to  be  sarcastic,  as  he  replied,  "Andrew, 
when  you  get  into  our  army  I  hope  you  will  fire  toward 
the  Yankees,  and  not  towards  our  own  men.  L,incoln 
has  called  out  seventy-five  thousand  Northern  cattle, 
has  he,  to  come  down  here  to  suppress  Southern  gen- 
tlemen ?  Well,  don't  get  scared;  the  first  regiment 
3'ou  see  of  them  will  run  away  at  the  sight  of  one  hun- 
dred Southern  soldiers.  In  fact,  Andrew,  you  talk  a 
good  bit  like  a  young  blatherskite." 

"And,  Mr.  Morgan,  you  talk  like  a  man  who  has 
never  read  a  page  of  history  or  had  a  year's  experience 
of  life,  notwithstanding  you  have  just  had  the  ocular 
demonstration  of  one  Northern  man  who  has  not  been 
scared  very  badl}^  at  sight  of  you  or  at  the  sound  of 
your  bravado.  If  there  are  seventy-five  thousand  more 
such  coming  down  upon  us  we  have  good  cause  to  be 
alarmed.  Mr.  Reed,  we  may  as  well  withdraw  for  the 
present,"  and  they  turned  and  walked  slowly  away. 

As  they  passed  down  the  lawn,  young  Clinton  con- 
tinued, "There  is  no  doubt  now,  Reed,  but  what  your 
terms  will  be  substantially  granted,  and  since  it  has  to 
be  .so,  perhaps  a'ou  had  better  not  defer  your  starting 
any  longer  than  3-ou  can  help." 


166  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"Andrew,"  rejoined  Mr.  Reed,  "  I  had  a  lurking  idea 
that  you  entertained  such  feehngs  toward  me,  but  I 
never  dreamed  that  you  would  have  dared  to  say  what 
you  did,  at  this  time,  in  the  face  of  those  older  men, 
especially  3^our  father.  I  supposed  that  I  was  sum- 
moned there  to  be  cashiered  in  the  most  peremptory 
manner  and  that  you,  of  course,  would  go  with  the 
current.  You  have  laid  me  under  a  deep  obligation  to 
you,  and  I  fully  agree  with  you  now,  that  since  it  is 
only  a  question  of  time,  I  may  as  well  go  as  .soon  as 
pos.sible.  I  think  I  can  be  ready  to  start  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

"All  right,  then,"  said  Andrew,  "we  can  start  to- 
gether. Yoii  have  my  respect  as  a  worthy  foeman. 
I  should  have  despised  j-ou  forever  afterwards  if  you 
had  consented  to  enlist  in  our  army,"  and  the  two  men 
parted . 

The  two  older  men  were  left  standing  on  the  porch, 
in  a  kind  of  paralyzed  condition.  After  Mr.  Reed  and 
Andrew  had  gone  out  of  hearing  distance,  Morgan  said, 
"  By  Jove,  he  is  a  Tartar,  i.sn't  he  ?" 

' '  Yes,  sir  ;  who  would  have  thought  it — such  a  quiet, 
inoffensive  man  he  always  seemed  to  be,"  was  Clinton's 
reply. 

"  Mercy,  but  I  was  .scared,"  gasped  Mrs.  Clinton. 

"I  guess  we  may  as  well  grant  him  his  terms,"  re- 
plied Morgan,  "save  that  his  present  allowance  shall 
be  as  meagre  as  possible." 

It  would  be  useless  to  pursue  their  conversation 
further,  or  the  doings  of  any  of  the  parties  about 
Mt.  Airy  the  remainder  of  that  day  ;  but  the  next 
morning  two  men  were  seen  departing  from  it,  the  one 
mounted  on  a  dapple-gray  hor.se,  going  to  enlist  in  the 


THE   BURSTED   STORM.  167 

North  Carolina  cavalry,  the  other  driving  an  old  mule 
to  a  Dearborn  wagon,  a  refugee  for  the  North.  The  name 
of  the  one  was  Andrew  Jackson  Clinton  ;  the  name  of 
the  other  was  George  Washington  Reed.  The  latter 
had  with  him  in  the  wagon,  a  trunk  and  his  wife  Sarah, 
a  lady  of  about  forty  summers,  and  his  daughter  Emma, 
a  girl  of  seventeen.  It  is,  perhaps,  equally  useless  to 
pursue  in  detail  the  happenings  of  these  two  parties 
on  their  journey.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  both  were 
travelling  in  the  direction  of  Fayettesville.  The  one,  as 
might  naturally  be  supposed,  reached  the  place  several 
hours  in  advance  of  the  other.  The  one  with  the  slow 
team  trudged  slowly  along  through  bogs  and  over  hills, 
walking  most  of  the  way  himself  that  his  mule  might 
not  fall  from  exhaustion,  allaying  the  apprehensions  of 
his  wife  and  daughter  as  best  he  could,  as  they  entered 
in  and  passed  through  dark  passages  of  timber,  and 
answering,  in  a  hopeful  affirmative,  their  anxious  in- 
quiries, "  Do  you  think  we  will  get  there  before  night  ?" 
The  other,  true  to  his  instincts  and  his  promises,  com- 
menced busying  himself  during  the  hours  he  had  pre- 
ceded the  other  to  Fayettesville  in  hunting  up  the  col- 
onel of  his  regiment  and  other  persons  of  station  and 
influence  to  procure  for  Reed,  when  he  arrived,  not 
only  protection  but  passports  of  safety  as  far  on  as 
Raleigh,  at  least,  and  with  such  letters  to  the  governor 
of  the  State  as  might  procure  for  him  a  safe  journe}^ 
to  the  North,  There  is  only  time  now,  however,  to 
say  that  the  two  men  said  good-by  to  each  other  cor- 
dially in  the  railroad  station  at  Fayettesville,  late  in  the 
afternoon  of  the  next  day,  with  the  mutually  sincere 
hope  that  when  they  next  met  it  would  be  under 
happier  conditions  ;    and  that  they  never  did  look  upon 


108  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATEvSMAN. 

each  other's  faces  again.  And  notwithstanding  all 
the  precaution  that  had  been  taken,  Reed  met  with 
more  detentions,  embarrassing  annoyances,  searchings 
of  person  and  trunk,  missing  of  connections,  and  ex- 
haustion of  his  not  over  plethoric  purse,  than  he  had 
e.xpected,  but  finally  arrived  safeh-  on  the  23d  of  April, 
at  Mansdale,  with  his  health,  his  wife,  his  daughter, 
his  wife's  trunk,  and  a  two  and  a-half  dollar  gold  piece 
in  his  pocket.  For  the.se  he  joined  with  his  wife  and 
daughter  in  returning  thanks  ;  then  left  them  at  the 
hotel  and  proceeded  him.self  immediately  to  the  office 
of  Mr.  Morton. 

To  an  upper  room  in  his  warehouse,  where  they 
would  be  unmolested  by  callers,  Mr.  Morton  took  him, 
bade  him  be  seated  and  tell  all.  Mr.  Reed  was  seated 
and  told  all.  'When  he  was  through  Mr.  Morton  said, 
"Well,  as  I  .see  this  situation,  the  first  thing  to  be  done 
is  to  procure  some  means  for  your  family  to  live  on, 
and  some  employment  for  yourself  by  which  you  can 
earn  a  living.  Have  you  thought  of  anything  ;  have 
you  anything  to  suggest  yourself?  I  suppose,  hardly 
in  your  present  state  of  mind." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Morton,"  replied  Reed,  in  a  calm,  reso- 
lute voice,  which  Morton  saw  admitted  of  no  argu- 
ment, "  I  have  thought  of  something  ;  I  have  a  well- 
matured  plan  which  I  intend  to  pursue.  First,  try  to 
fix  my  family  in  some  little  way  by  which  they  may 
live  comfortably  by  earning  something  for  themselves 
in  some  respectable  manner,  and  I  shall  find  employ- 
ment for  myself  as  a  private  in  the  ranks  of  the  United 
States  army,  doing  what  I  can  to  suppress  this  re- 
bellion, conceived  in  hell,  born  in  iniquity,  and  carried 
on   for  the  purpose  of  maintaining  human  bondage." 


THE    BURSTED    STORM.  169 

"  Do  you  look  upon  that  as  permanent?"  asked  Mr. 
Morton. 

"I  look  upon  it,  Mr.  Morton,  as  more  permanent  than 
you  perhaps  anticipate.  If  there  is  anything  I  would 
urge  on  you  and  the  people  of  the  North,  it  is  to  dispel 
the  illusion  that  this  war  will  be  over  in  three  months. 
I  understand  that  there  are  opinions  prevailing  to  a 
considerable  extent  that  the  South  will,  after  all,  make 
no  actual  resistance.  Let  me  tell  you  that  they  will  ; 
that  they  will  have  to  be  suppressed  largel}'  by  sheer 
force  of  numbers.  I  know  you  think  thej'  lack  the 
resources,  the  numbers,  and  probably  the  endurance,  if 
not  the  real  courage,  of  the  Northern  people.  But,  let  me 
tell  you,  their  country  has  to  be  invaded,  an  advantage 
that  will  well  nigh  compensate  for  their  numerical  in- 
feriority; and,  while  I  believe  we  will  ultimatel}^  sup- 
press them,  let  me  prophesy  to  you  now,  that  it  will  be 
onl}'^  when  we  have  not  merely  called  for  seventj^-five 
thousand  troops,  but  when  we  have  found  graves  for 
that  mau}'  human  beings,  and  expended  perhaps  two 
hundred  million  dollars." 

When  Mr.  Reed  had  fini.shed  these  remarks  there 
was  a  slight  pause,  during  which  time  no  angel  raised 
the  curtain  and  showed  them  that  these  figures,  as- 
tounding as  they  seemed  to  be,  should  be  increased  to 
359,000  lives  actuall}'  lost  by  the  North  alone,  nearly 
as  many  b}^  the  South,  and  a  national  debt  lacking  a 
trifle  of  $3,000,000,000.  So  the  silence  was  simply 
broken  by  Mr.  Morton  saying,  "Well,  let  us  go  see 
your  family,  and  then  we  will  all  go  up  to  the  house. 
Mary  will  be  relieved,  at  least ;  she  has  been  in  such  a 
state  of  anxiety  these  two  weeks.  In  fact,  we  have 
all  been  in  that  condition,  for  we  could  hear  nothing, 


170  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN, 

as  I  have  said,  except  what  came  in  Mrs.  CHnton's 
letter  to  Mrs.  Bernard,  in  which  she  said  there  would 
necessarily  be  a  temporary  suspension  of  all  social  and 
business  relations,  which  rather  increased  than  allayed 
our  anxiety,  as  it  made  no  mention  of  you  whatever." 
They  all  proceeded  to  the  house,  where  Mrs.  Mary 
Reed  (better  known  to  Walter  Graham  as  Aunt  Mary) 
received  with  rapturous  joy  her  brother-in-law,  her 
sister-in-law  and  niece  :  for  Mr.  Reed  was  none  other 
than  the  full  brother  of  Jno.  Reed,  her  deceased  hus- 
band, and,  con.sequently  his  daughter  Emma  was  the 
cousin  of  her  daughter  Ida  (whose  picture  Walter  had 
seen),  who  was  the  cousin  of  Blanch  Morton,  who  was 
the  cousin  of  Maggie  Bernard,  who  all  lived  in 
America  in  the  days  of  the  great  civil  war  and  saw  the 
storm  burst. 


CHAPTER    XL 

MRS.  GRAHAM  IS  RESIGNED. 

"  Nevertheless  not  my  will,  but  Thine  be  done." 

AND  it  came  to  pass  in  the  land  of  America,  in  the 
-  days  of  the  great  civil  war,  after  the  storm  had 
burst  and  the  first  heavy  dash  of  excitement  had 
fallen,  there  come  a  lull,  and  it  was  sufficiently  calm  in 
the  vicinity  of  Shocktown  for  Walter  Graham  to  work 
a  whole  day  without  running  three  times  to  the  village 
for  the  paper,  and  to  the  telegraph  office  to  catch  the 
latest  news.  Things  were  sufficiently  settled  for  the 
young  folks  to  think  once  more  of  social  pleasures; 
for  Maggie  Bernard  to  be  sufficiently  composed  to  con- 
ceive the  idea  of  a  boating  pic-nic  and  a  grand  good 
time  among  the  trees,  the  flowers,  and  on  Graham's 
dam,  on  the  21st  of  June,  the  longest  day  of  the  year. 
And  accordingly  it  happened  that  Walter  had  an 
opportunity  to  meet  once  more  with  Blanch  Morton, 
for  of  course,  cousin  Maggie  would  see  to  it  that  cousin 
Blanch  and  little  Harry — as  the  Bernards  called  him 
— were  invited. 

She  could  not  invite  Will,  upon  this  occasion,  for 
he  had  gone  off  with  some  other  college  boys  in  the 
three  months'  service,  but  Blanch  would  naturally  have 
delegated  to  her  the  special  privilege  of  bringing  with 
her  cousin  Ida,  whose  term  at  college  had  just  closed  ; 
and  Ida's  cousin  Emma,  the  young  refugee  from  the 
South,  with  whom  they  were  all  anxious  to  meet. 

Amelia  Kerr  was  there,  as  was  also  cousin  Annie, 


172  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

who  had  slipped  out  for  her  first  summer's  stroll  in  the 
country;  but  Henry  Kerr  was  not  there,  for  he,  like 
Will.  Morton,  had  enlisted  in  the  three  months'  service. 
So  Amelia  and  Miss  lycsher  had  fallen  back  on  "  Little 
Baldy ' '  to  bring  them  over  on  this  occasion ;  but 
cousin  Annie  was  not  long  without  a  special  escort,  for 
Frank  Swave  soon  became  quite  marked  in  his  atten- 
tions, and  Walter  even  heard  her  say,  in  her  open, 
frank  way,  when  the  other  girls  twitted  her  about  it, 
that  ' '  of  course  she  had  received  a  letter  from  him 
since  she  was  out  in  the  winter,  and  of  course  she  had 
answered  it,  too." 

Dave  Miller  could  not  be  there  on  this  occasion,  as 
he  too,  like  Will.  Morton  and  Henry  Kerr,  was  unavoid- 
ably detained  as  a  private  in  the  army.  These  three, 
and  two  men  who  were  employed  in  the  iron  works 
farther  down  on  Silver  Creek,  were  in  fact  the  only 
ones  Walter  knew  who  had  actually  enlisted  ;  not- 
withstanding there  were  several  others  training  in  the 
home  guards  and  talking  of  going  into  the  regular 
service  if  there  should  prove  to  be  any  serious  necessity. 

Whether  this  second  meeting  with  Blanch  Morton 
was  an  evil  omen  or  a  good  one,  Walter  was  unable  to 
decide  in  his  own  mind.  To  look  into  that  countenance 
while  mingling  with  flowers  and  trees  on  a  bright  June 
day,  which  had  so  impressed  him  on  a  rough,  March 
eve,  was  certainly  a  pleasing  sensation  ;  but  whether 
or  not  it  was  only  awakening  delusive  expectations, 
dreams  that  could  never  be  realized,  was  what  annoyed 
him.  Certain  it  was  he  looked  at  her  all  the  same 
whenever  he  could  without  being  caught  in  the  act. 
It  must  not  be  inferred  from  this,  that  he  did  not  look 
occasionally  at  Amelia  Kerr,  who  was  still  so  kind  and 


MRS.  GRAHAM   IS   RKSIGNKD.  173 

comely;  though  once  it  did  half  occur  to  him  that 
perhaps  she  was  treating  him  more  like  a  mother  than 
a  lover.  Neither  must  it  be  supposed  that  he  did  not 
find  himself  occasionally  being  highly  entertained  by 
Miss  Lesher's  wit  and  candor,  nor  that  he  did  not  oc- 
casionally sally  forth  in  the  direction  of  that  graceful 
form  and  tho.se  rich  blue  eyes  of  Maggie  Bernard's, 
although  she  did  adroitl}'  turn  him  aside  and  steal 
away  with  High.  Bowers,  just  as  she  had  done  years 
before  on  the  play-ground  at  the  old  public  school. 
Nor  must  it  be  imagined  that  he  did  not  seem  deeply 
interested  in  the  story  of  ' '  the  young  heroine  from  the 
South,"  as  the  other  girls  called  Miss  Reed,  as  he  was 
receiving  a  special  introduction  to  her  and  ' '  cousin 
Ida,  Aunt  Mary's  daughter,"  by  Blanch. 

And  Miss  Reed,  it  must  be  admitted,  had  a  bewitch- 
ing little  way  about  her  as  she  would  turn  up  her  dark 
brown  eyes,  and  talked  rather  intelligently  and  spirit- 
edly on  most  topics,  especially  on  literature,  in  which 
Walter  discovered  she  was  quite  well  versed. 

Cousin  Ida,  at  first  sight,  was  perhaps  the  least 
fascinating  of  any  of  the  girls  ;  indeed,  he  was  rather 
disposed  to  vote  her  quite  homely  in  his  mind,  as  he 
offered  her  his  hand,  but  he  soon  discovered  that  the 
hght  of  intelligence  was  on  her  countenance  ;  that  it 
was  illumined  with  something  that  warranted  a  second 
inspection.  Farther  on  in  the  afternoon  he  found  his 
opinion  changing  as  to  her  features ;  he  believed 
they  were  not  homely,  after  all  ;  he  was  sure,  before 
evening,  that  her  mind  was  cultured  and  her  soul  was 
pure. 

In  this  whirl  of  gay  young  girls  Walter  began  to 
wonder  if  he  really  was  possessed  of  such  a  singular 


174  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

combination  of  the  elements  as  to  fall  in  love  with  all 
of  them — each,  in  turn,  as  he  met  them. 

Yet,  before  the  day  was  over,  he  found  him.self  un- 
consciously doing,  most  of  all,  what  his  will  had 
forbidden — yielding,  with  great  pliancy,  to  that 
penetrating  glance  of  Blanch  Morton's — those  half 
crossed  eyes  which  had  such  a  strange  mixture  of  the 
searching  and  the  kind.  She  was  one  of  a  group  which 
he  rowed  acro.ss  the  dam  and  back  again  ;  and  what  a 
thrill  went  through  him  as  .she  said,  with  such  un- 
feigned sincerity,  "  You  seem  to  be  an  excellent  rower, 
Mr.  Graham.  I  think  we  can  put  our  absolute  trust  in 
you."  And  then,  the  torture  he  felt  to  think  she  was 
sitting  at  the  wrong  end  of  the  boat  when  the.se  words 
fell  from  her  lips  ;  what  perverse  circumstances,  he 
thought,  had  placed  her  face  to  his  back  ;  and  he 
smiled,  as  best  he  could,  at  the  "young  heroine  from 
the  South,"  and  Miss  Lesher,  who  sat  fronting  him  and 
were  sportively  splashing  the  water  on  him  with  the  tips 
of  their  fingers.  How  contrary  and  provokingly  quiet 
the  elements  seemed  to  be — not  the  slightest  sign  of  a 
hurricane;  the  boat  wouldn't  upset;  no  opportunity 
likel)'  to  occur  for  him  to  rescue  a  group  of  drowning 
girls;  to  drag  Blanch,  almost  beyond  resuscitation,  to 
the  shore  ;  to  challenge  her  love  for  the  dangers  he  had 
ri.sked,  for  the  hero  he  could  prove  him.self  to  be. 
Surely,  this  was  the  way  he  had  read  of  it  happening 
in  books;  but  then,  of  course,  he  reflected,  here  I  am 
in  real  life  and  nothing  of  the  kind  happening  ;  not 
even  an  angry  wave  in  sight ;  all  placid  and  calm  as 
were  the  leaves  of  the  old  willows  at  their  landing 
place,  on  the  shore,  which  dipped  their  branches  so 
modestly  down  to  the  water's  edge  ;  and  at  which  place 


MRS.   GRAHAM    IS    RESIGNED.  175 

stood  Tom  Svvave  reaching  out  his  hand  so  politely  to 
help  the  girls  to  the  shore,  to  which  Blanch  replied 
so  kindly  as  she  accepted  it,  "  Thank  you." 

Accordingly,  as  he  walked  up  across  the  meadow  to 
his  home  in  the  evening  he  looked  back  and  saw  Tom 
walking  by  Blanch's  side  as  the  company  were  pro- 
ceeding to  the  village,  and  he  was  sure  he  saw  her 
smile  her  usual  thoughtful  smile  in  his  face  as  he  had 
made  perhaps  some  very  entertaining  remark,  and  in- 
stantly a  feeling  arose  in  his  breast  in  reference  to  Tom 
Swave,  such  as  he  had  never  experienced  before. 

It  never  occurred  to  him,  as  he  looked  into  that 
sincere,  earnest  face  of  his  sister  Mary,  and  those  rich 
black  eyes  of  little  vSue's,  which  fairly  sparkled  with 
intelligence  and  grit,  that  others  were  casting  wistful 
glances  up  across  the  meadow.  But  he  went  home, 
donned  his  working  clothes,  did  some  evening  chores, 
sat  down  on  a  log  by  the  mill  and  began  to  meditate, 
inquiring,  ' '  What  is  this  that  now  rankles  at  the 
thought  of  my  old  and  trusted  friend,  whom  I  have 
defended  even  to  my  mother  ?" 

Walter  felt,  as  he  sat  there  in  the  twilight,  that 
the  bond  which  existed  between  him  and  Tom  had 
always  been  that  of  genuine  friendship.  All  his  rival- 
ries with  him,  either  on  the  play-ground  or  in  the 
class-room,  had  been  generous  ones.  In  all  these 
contests  he  felt  he  could  truthfully  say  he  had  never 
cherished  an  unkind  or  envious  feeling  toward  him. 
Why,  then,  this  strange  feeling  now  ?  Is  this  the  green- 
eyed  monster  ?  and  that,  too,  about  a  girl  of  whom  he 
had  bid  his  every  emotion  be  still — a  girl  whom  neither 
of  us  have  any  more  real  chance  of  winning  as  a  wife 
than  we  have  of  Queen  Victoria's  daughter  ?  But,  hold! 


17()  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

at  that  thought ;  Tom  is  such  a  plausible  fellow.  True, 
his  station  in  life  would  not  be  considered  very  differ- 
ent from  my  own,  but  then  he  always  had  such  an 
agreeable  way.     He  half  trembled  at  the  thought. 

He  proceeded  to  the  house.  In  due  time  he  retired; 
he  tossed  a  good  bit  in  the  bed  ;  Joe  asked  him  what 
was  the  matter?  He  was  frightened  again,  when  he 
reflected  how  nearly  he  involuntaril}-  let  the  words  slip 
out,  "  I'm  in  love,"  but  he  just  caught  them  in  time  to 
substitute,  "  It's  too  warm  to  sleep  to-night ;  we  must 
throw  some  more  covers  back."  He  finally  took  a  pil- 
low and  lay  down  upon  the  floor.  Had  he  been  a 
little  older,  or  had  it  been  in  the  present  age,  he  could 
have  called  it  insomnia.  But  here  he  was  dead  stuck  ; 
no  other  word  to  call  it  but  madly  in  love,  and  jealous 
at  that,  of  his  true  and  loyal  friend  ;  then,  besides,  not 
three  months  since  he  had  bid  his  soul  be  still  and 
banish  Blanch  Morton  from  his  mind,  with  all  the  reso- 
lution that  he  could  command.  Ah,  frailty  !  thy  name 
is  a  boy  of  eighteen  ;  he  almost  uttered  this  thought 
aloud. 

And  now.  to  you,  mj^  friends  of  riper  years,  who  look 
upon  even  love  from  a  more  philosophic  standpoint — 
don't  judge  Walter  Graham  too  severely;  be  sure  that 
you  yourselves  have  never  experienced  anj'  more  pure 
or  unselfish  sentiment  than  was  his  for  Blanch  Morton 
that  night. 

Please  don't  dismiss  the  subject  by  calling  it  the  love 
of  only  eighteen  years,  and  destined  to  pass  off"  with 
the  same  ease  as  all  those  which  had  preceded  it.  Who 
can  say  that  the}'  each  in  turn  had  not  been  pure  and 
unalloyed,  the  simple  behests  of  nature's  great  decree 
upon  a  warm  and  sympathetic  heart  ? 


MRS.  GRAHAM   IS   RESIGNED.  177 

Whether  this  love  for  Blanch  would  prove  more 
stable  than  those  that  had  gone  before  or  succeed  en- 
tirely in  keeping  his  mind  from  reverting  to  the  old 
ones,  or  forever  bar  him  from  taking  new  ones  to  his 
heart,  is  not  necessar}'  now  to  decide  ;  but,  for  the  time 
being,  I  believe  it  was  pure  and  hoi}'  ill  the  sight  of  God. 
And  it  is  a  doubtful  question  whether  the  old  bachelors 
and  maids  of  fifty,  who  may  incline  to  be  facetious 
about  it,  ever  listened  more  thoroughly  to  the  voice  of 
judgment  than  did  Walter  Graham  that  night. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  he  himself  ever  did  a  more 
truly  great,  self-sacrificing  or  heroic  act  in  all  his  life 
than  he  did  that  night,  when  his  bosom  rent  with  the 
passion  of  all  passions,  he  deliberately  reached  the  con- 
clusion before  he  closed  his  eyes  in  sleep,  that  come 
what  would,  he  had  no  right  to  feel  a  jealous  or  en- 
vious pang  towards  Tom  Swave.  It  was  just  as  natural 
for  him  to  fall  a  victim  to  the  same  fascinating  powers 
as  it  was  for  himself  to  have  done  so.  No,  to  him,  his 
friend  from  almost  his  earliest  recollection,  whose  moral 
fibre  it  was  true  he  sometimes  felt  a  trifle  lower  than  his 
own,  a  fact  which  he  well  knew  had  sometimes  caused 
his  mother  a  little  anxiety  ;  but  still  a  friend  who  had 
never  shown  him  aught  but  kindness  all  his  life  ;  who, 
whatever  else  might  be  laid  at  his  door,  could  not 
be  charged  with  selfishness — to  him  his  friendship 
should  never  change.  Thus  Walter  solemnly  resolved 
that  night,  under  the  light  of  the  stars  and  the  dew- 
drops,  that  he  would  meet  Tom  in  the  morning  with  the 
same  cordiality  as  ever  and  that  if  the  worst  should  ever 
come,  he  could  stand  by  and  see  him  lead  Blanch  Mor- 
ton to  the  altar  as  his  wife  without  betraying  any  emo- 
tion.    Nay,  more  ;  that  night,  as  he  lay  there  upon  the 


178  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

floor,  he  resolved  that  unless  this  war  should  be  over 
in  a  short  time  he  would  enlist.  So  many  passions, 
both  love  and  patriotism  tearing  him  to  pieces  at  once, 
required  heroic  treatment.  He  would  give  himself  the 
dose. 

Accordingly,  the  next  day,  when  he  met  Tom,  they 
discussed  the  pic-nic  in  their  usual  affable  manner. 
Accordingly,  the  next  Sunday',  when  he  took  his  after- 
noon stroll,  he  told  Tom  and  Jake  Hoover,  with  great 
earnestness,  that  he  would  stay  and  help  his  father  in 
with  the  harvest,  and  if  the  war  were  not  over  then,  or 
gave  no  evidence  of  being  over  in  a  short  time,  he  was 
going  to  enlist, 

Tom  replied  in  an  equally  earnest  manner,  "  Pon- 
der well  what  you  are  doing ;  the  next  soldiers  will  be 
enlisted  for  three  years.  While  I  am  for  maintaining 
the  Union,  I  tell  you,  a  man  has  got  to  reflect  a  little 
on  going  in  for  three  years  ;  and,  besides,  I  know 
father  would  bring  me  back  while  mother  remains  in 
her  delicate  condition  at  least."  Walter  replied, 
"That's  what  bothers  me  the  most,  thoughts  of 
mother;  but  I  have  made  up  my  mind  ;  and,  besides, 
no  one  expects  the  war  to  last  three  years. ' ' 

"  I  doubt  if  Mr.  Williamson  expects  that,  and  mind 
you,  his  vision  is  pretty  clear." 

And  accordingly  Walter  stayed  and  helped  in  with 
the  harvest,  and  watched  to  see  if  the  "  war  were  really 
going  to  amount  to  much."  And  accordingly  the 
harvest  was  almost  over ;  they  were  hurrying  in  the 
last  of  the  oats,  when  Walter  was  convinced,  the  home 
guards  of  Shocktown  were  convinced.  Congress  was  con- 
vinced, in  fact  the  whole  North  was  largely  convinced 
that  the  war  would  not  be  over  in  ninety  days.  The 
vigor  of  the  combat  in  Mis.souri   and  the  killing  of 


MRS.  GRAHAM    IS    RESIGNED.  179 

General  Ivyous  at  Wilson's  Creek,  the  surrender  of 
Colonel  Mulligan  at  Lexington,  had  a  tendency  to 
convince  them  of  that  fact ;  but  the  disaster  of  our 
army  at  Bull  Run  had  perhaps  most  thoroughly 
strengthened  that  conviction. 

Hence  it  was  that  Walter  Graham's  future  course 
was  clear.  How  much  it  was  really  determined  b3' 
his  resolutions  to  drown  his  hopeless  love,  or  to  do 
something  heroic  that  would  make  the  girls  sure  to 
love  him,  or  because  his  hopes  and  plans  for  the  law 
seemed  at  least  temporarily  frustrated;  or  whether,  as 
he  cast  his  eye  down  the  list  of  Presidents,  and  indeed 
nine-tenths  of  our  statesmen,  he  saw  that  they  had 
graduated  either  in  the  law  or  on  the  tented  field,  that 
notwithstanding  all  our  burlesque  of  the  one  and 
horror  of  the  other,  it  was  through  one  of  these  two 
gateways  they  practically  all  have  passed  ;  whether 
it  was  because  while  willing  to  admit  that  "Peace 
hath  her  victories  no  less  renowned  than  war,"  he  now 
perceived  the  goal  of  his  ambition  lay  through  the 
latter  path  ;  to  what  extent  any  or  all  of  these  con- 
siderations, deep  down  in  the  hidden  recesses  of  his 
heart,  shaped  his  course,  you  and  I,  perhaps,  may  never 
know.  It  is,  perhaps,  unfair  that  we  should  question 
it  too  closely  now.  Suffice  it  to  say  from  all  that  we 
have  heard  of  Walter  up  to  this  time,  of  his  antece- 
dents, his  parents,  his  education,  the  influences  which 
had  surrounded  him,  and  the  bent  of  his  mind,  he 
could  consistently  attribute  it  all  to  patriotism. 

It  is  only  necessary  now  to  say  that  in  the  fulness  of 
time  he  made  known  his  intention  to  his  mother.  It 
was  on  a  warm  July  evening,  under  the  cherry  tree,  a 
few  days  after  the  battle  of  Bull  Run. 


180  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Mrs.  Graham  neither  fainted  nor  screamed,  nor  went 
into  hysterics  ;  aside  from  the  conversation  Joe  and  Sue 
had  reported  as  having  overheard  between  Walter  and 
the  neighboring  boys,  she  had  her  own  premonitions 
all  along  as  to  what  might  happen.  She  had  reached 
the  conclusion  that,  all  things  considered,  it  was  perhaps 
better  that  she  interpose  no  parental  authority  to  pre- 
vent it.  She  was  no  better,  she  reasoned,  and  perhaps, 
making  no  greater  sacrifice  than  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  other  mothers  throughout  the  land,  who  she  felt 
morallj'  certain  would  be  called  upon  to  do  the  same 
before  this  war  was  over.  As  to  asking  her  husband 
to  interpose  any  objections  to  his  own  son  enlisting, 
she  well  understood  this  would  place  him  in  too  incon- 
sistent a  light  before  the  world.  Jacob  Graham's 
opinions  as  to  the  war  she  thoroughly  understood  were 
too  well-known  in  the  community  for  any  objecting 
words  to  come  from  his  mouth. 

What  Mrs.  Graham  did  do,  however,  was  to  look 
her  son  steadily  in  the  face,  and  after  he  had  disclosed 
his  purpose,  say  with  the  deep  devotion  and  tremulous 
voice  of  a  mother,  "Walter,  do  you  think  you  have 
the  faintest  idea  of  what  you  are  going  into  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother,"  said  Walter  with  great  sincerity,  "  I 
understand  thoroughly  what  I  am  going  to  do ;  I 
have  given  this  matter  my  best  thought.  You  know, 
mother,  I  have  alwa3's  had  a  strong  constitution;  I  am 
over  all  my  childhood  diseases  (mumps,  measles,  chick- 
enpox),  and  everj'thing  of  the  kind.  I  am  sure  I  can 
stand  the  exposures  of  the  camp,  which  may  not  be 
severe  after  all ;  we  may  have  a  great  deal  of  garrison 
duty  to  do  and  things  of  that  kind,  and  as  for  the 
actual  killed  in  battle,   you    know,  mother,   statistics 


MRS.   GRAHAM    IS    RESIGNED.  I8l 

show  that  even  in  the  severest  wars,  the  percentage  is 
comparatively  small." 

"Walter,"  replied  his  mother,  "I  am  only  a  woman 
and  don't  claim  to  be  a  great  statesman,  but  do  you 
believe  me,  you  are  going  into  a  war,  than  which  there 
has  perhaps  been  none  more  severe  in  recorded  time." 

Walter  looked  at  his  mother  for  a  few  minutes  and 
made  no  reply.  Mrs.  Graham,  continuing,  said,  "  Wal- 
ter, who  else,  what  other  boys  of  the  neighborhood  are 
going?" 

"Well,"  said  Walter,  "Mr.  Wagner  is  going;  Mr. 
Flora,  another  of  my  old  teachers  ;  Jack  Matson  is  go- 
ing ;  Boyle's  two  boys,  Jake  and  Bill  ;  Sam  lyong  and 
Bob  are  going;  Pat  McKnight  is  going;  and  Dave  Miller 
and  Henry  Kerr  are  both  going  back  again,  as  soon  as 
they  come  home.  Henry  Kerr  was  the  only  one  you 
saw,  so  far,  that  went  from  around  here,  w^ho  was 
in  the  battle  of  Bull  Run.  He  may  be  one  of  the  offi- 
cers of  our  company,  and  I  guess  Mr.  Hirsh  will  go,  if 
he  can  get  to  be  chaplain,  and  Dr.  Cairn  talks  of  going 
as  a  surgeon." 

"  Tom  Swave  is  not  going  then,"  replied  his  mother, 
"or  Frank,  either." 

"  No,"  said  Walter.  "  Tom  says  the  shock  would  be 
too  great  for  his  mother,  and  I  believe  it  might ;  I 
know  it  is  not  because  he  is  a  coward." 

Mrs.  Graham  looked  again  into  the  eyes  of  her  son 
and  gave  utterance  to  the  one  expression,  for  which 
she  was  the  most  sorry,  perhaps  of  all  others  during 
the  remainder  of  her  life,  as  follows:  "Walter,  Tom 
Swave  has  no  more  notion  of  enlisting  than  I  have. 
His  mother  is  no  better  than  any  other  mother,  and  I 
doubt  if  she  is  a  particle  more  delicate  than  some  of 


182  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

the  rest  of  us.  He  always  has  exercised  an  undue  in- 
fluence over  you,  and  always  will,  unless  this  is  to  be 
the  circumstance  that  is  to  destroy  it.  In  one  way  I 
am  well  satisfied  that  he  is  not  going  with  3'ou  in  the 
same  compan}^  but  it  shows  he  is  capable  of  seeing 
other  hearts  distressed  while  his  is  safe.  I  thought, 
perhaps  Frank,  whom  I  always  thought  a  better  char- 
acter than  Tom,  might  be  going,  but  it  seems  not;  they 
are  both  willing  to  stand  back  and  let  you  go,  the 
youngest  of  all  those  you  have  mentioned." 

Walter,  clasping  tighter  his  mother's  hand,  which 
had  been  in  his  all  the  while,  looked  at  her  with  some- 
thing like  astonishment  and  pity,  and  said,  "Mother, 
I  may  possibly  have  been  deceived  in  Tom  all  these 
years,  but  all  that  I  can  say  now  is,  that  it  is  not  he 
that  is  urging  me  to  go;  it  is  entirely  my  own  act ;  he 
has  rather  dissuaded  me. ' ' 

"Is  that  so,"  said  Mrs.  Graham  thoughtfully,  as 
she  impressed  a  kiss  upon  the  brow  of  her  son,  and 
left  him  for  the  present.  Walter  laj'  back  upon  the 
grass  when  she  had  gone,  and  said  aloud,  "  I  wonder 
what  it  is  that  mother  sees  so  dangerous  in  my  con- 
tact with  Tom  Swave  ?  Her  suspicions  almost  make 
me  cast  him  off,  and  yet  I  always  have  liked  him." 

And  Mrs.  Graham  went  to  her  room  and  asked  God 
to  forgive  her  for  the  severe  judgment  she  had  pa.ssed 
upon  the  Swave  boys  :  "for  Tom  has  a  generous  nature, 
I  admit,  and  that  is  why  Walter  likes  him  ;  maybe  he 
is  onl}'^  being  considerate  of  his  delicate  mother  after 
all,  for  I  am  not  sure  that  I  shall  be  able  to  endure  this 
myself.  Oh,  God,  watch  over  my  boy  and  preserve 
him."     And  she  lay  down  on  the  bed  exhausted. 

But  she  arose  the  next  morning,  and  went  about  her 


MRS.  GRAHAM    IS    RESIGNED.  183 

work  calm  and  compcsed  ;  and  continued  so  until  the 
28th  of  September,  the  day  Walter's  regiment  was  to 
leave  Sharwood  ;  the  men  of  the  neighborhood  were 
running  to  town  each  day  with  some  messages 
and  news  for  friends  and  relatives  while  the  regiment 
was  recruiting.  But  Mrs.  Graham  had  simply  said  the 
day  it  left  she  was  going  to  Sharwood.  It  was  princi- 
pally a  Jefferson  County  regiment ;  Walter  was  a  pri- 
vate of  Company  G.  The  number  of  the  regiment  was 
either  the  Forty-fifth,  Fifty-fifth,  Sixty-fifth,  Seventy- 
fifth,  or  Eighty-fifth.  Mrs.  Graham  would  sometimes 
forget  herself ;  she  always  remembered,  however,  there 
was  a  fifth  to  it ;  in  fact  it  is  not  at  all  necessary  for 
our  purposes,  at  present,  which  it  was,  except  that  for 
convenience  sake  I  will  hereafter  designate  it  as  the 
Seventy-fifth.  That  number  is  easily  remembered  ;  in 
fact,  the  boys  were  already  beginning  to  call  it  "the 
gallant  old  Seventy-fifth,"  "  the  bloody  old  Seventy- 
fifth,"  and  such  other  appellations  as  were  calculated 
to  stimulate  local  pride. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  28th,  the  streets  of  Shar- 
wood were  thronged  with  people  from  the  county;  her 
own  twenty-five  thousand  inhabitants  seemed  to  be 
astir.  Mrs.  Graham  had  come  in  the  evening  before, 
and  remained  all  night  with  Miss  Lesher,  whose  father 
kept  a  flourishing  grocery  store  on  one  of  the  promi- 
nent corners,  and  her  brother  John  was  a  member  of 
Company  B.  The  regiment  was  to  leave  at  10:00  A.  M. 
They  were  to  have  a  short  parade  through  the  principal 
streets  at  half-past  eight ;  at  nine  the  Governor  was  to 
review  them.  At  half-past  nine  he  was  to  address 
them,  the  ladies  were  to  present  their  flag,  and  the  col- 
onel   was   to   respond.     But   now    Mrs.    Graham    and 


184  WALTER   GRAHAM,  STATESMAN. 

Walter  had  their  first  experience  of  the  sometimes  inex- 
plicable delay  of  military  operations,  Half-past  eight 
came  and  went,  the  tov.'n  clock  was  striking  nine,  and 
the  regiment  not  yet  formed  in  line  ;  half-past  nine  had 
arrived,  they  received  their  first  orders  to  fall  in,  they 
stood  until  half-past  ten,  going  through  the  manual  of 
arms  followed  by  a  short  march  around  the  camp,  then 
dismissed  until  half-past  eleven  ;  some  said  it  was  ' '  be- 
cause the  transportation  had  not  arrived  yet,"  some 
said  it  was  "because  the  Governor  did  not  come,"  some 
said,  "  the  Governor  had  died  on  the  way,"  some  said 
it  was  "  because  the  ladies  had  forgotten  to  put  all  the 
stars  on  the  flag,  and  they  had  taken  it  home  to  finish 
it."  At  all  events  they  formed  in  line  again  at  half- 
past  eleven  to  receive  their  flag,  and  then  to  be  dis- 
missed again  with  imperative  orders  to  be  read}^ 
promptly  at  i:oo  p.  m.,  for  their  final  departure.  Wal- 
ter and  his  mother  slipped  home  with  Miss  Lesher  to 
take  their  dinner.  Brother  John  was  with  them,  of 
course  ;  Miss  Lesher  .seemed  active  and  vivacious,  as 
.she  would  say,  "You  boys  can  take  a  mutual  care  of 
each  other."  Mrs.  Graham  seemed  rather  quiet  and 
thoughtful.  At  i:oo  o'clock,  .sharp,  they  were  back  in 
camp,  but  it  was  one-half  hour  later  before  they  were 
formed  in  line  ;  they  then  finally  started  off  for  a  march 
through  the  principal  streets  of  the  town  ;  it  was  half- 
past  two  before  they  were  drawn  up  in  a  solid  square 
in  an  open  lot  in  front  of  the  Governor.  He  addressed 
them  iJiter  alia  as  follows.: 

"It  is  no  pleasant  feeling  to  see  you  leave  your 
homes  as  you  do  now,  with  fathers,  mothers,  wives, 
sisters,  and  sweethearts  around  to  bid  you  your  final 
adieu,  but  I  know  that  your  patriotism,  your  .sen.se  of 


MRS.   GRAHAM  IS  RESIGNED.  185 

dut}-  ha.s  compelled  you  to  do  it.  And  your  patriotism, 
your  courage,  and  your  love  for  those  you  have  left 
behind,  will  sustain  you  in  any  perils  through  which 
you  shall  be  called  to  pass.  Much  as  we  shall  pity 
you  in  your  trials,  I  should  pity  you  infinitely  more,  if 
I  thought  3'ou  were  born  of  soul  so  mean,  of  spirits  so 
abject,  as  to  dare  to  hope  that  you  might  shirk  the 
duty  which  patriotism  has  now  laid  upon  you,  that  you 
should  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  voice  of  your  country  now 
assailed  by  treason  and  treachery.  To  arm,  to  disci- 
pline, to  equip,  and  send  forth  to  the  field  of  battle  the 
sons  of  my  native  State,  has  now  become  my  unpleas- 
ant duty.  But  I  know,  brave  soldiers  of  the  Seventy- 
fifth,  that  your  conduct  shall  never  bring  the  blush  of 
shame  to  me,  to  our  State,  to  your  friends,  or  to  your- 
selves. Let  this  beautiful  flag,  which  the  ladies  of 
your  town  have  presented  you,  be  soiled  or  torn,  and 
rent  with  bullets  it  may  be,  but  let  treachery  or  cow- 
ardice blast  it  never. ' ' 

Loud  cries  came  up  from  the  thousands  of  voices  in 
confusion,  "  We  will  not,  Governor,"  and  such  expres- 
sions as,  "  We  will  never  let  her  touch  the  ground  ;" 
"  Bully  for  you.  Governor;"  "That's  the  stuff,"  and 
then,  "Three  cheers  for  the  Governor."  It  was  now 
half-past  three;  the  train  had  actually  pulled  up  on  the 
track  ;  it  consisted  of  freight  cars  with  a  window  sawed 
out  of  each  end,  and  one  on  each  side  for  ventilation;  a 
few  board  seats  in  each  car  completed  the  accommoda- 
tions The  last  farewells  had  been  said,  the  boys  were 
about  to  get  in  them,  when  the  train  suddenly  moved 
back  on  to  the  cattle  siding,  to  let  the  Western  Express 
pass.  The  Western  Express  was  twenty  minutes  late  ; 
some   of  the   boys   in   this   interval  slipped  across  in 


186  WALTER    GRAHAIV, ,    STATESMAN. 

squads  to  a  neighboring  saloon  to  get  a  beer.  Mrs. 
Graham  wondered  for  one  instant  if  Walter  would  ever 
be  among  these,  and  a  slight  tremor  came  over  her  as 
she  thought,  "  If  he  ever  does  live  to  come  back,  will  it 
be  dissipated  and  demoralized  by  the  habits  of  the 
camp?"  but  no,  she  would  not  torture  herself  with  this 
thought  about  her  boy. 

"To  doubt  would  be  disloj-alty. 
To  falter  would  be  sin." 

Finally  the  Western  Express  passed,  the  train 
pulled  up  again  ;  again  it  pulled  out  on  another  side- 
ing,  no  person  knew  what  for  this  time  ;  again  it  de- 
layed about  ten  minutes  ;  while  the  soldiers  gravely 
discussed  the  causes  of  the  dela}-,  as  each  in  turn  de- 
clared that  they  would  ' '  sooner  hav^e  gone  into  a 
battle  at  once  than  fool  this  way  all  day,"  or  that  they 
"would  have  sooner  marched  twenty  miles,"  or  that 
' '  they  were  actually  more  tired  than  if  thej^  had 
worked  all  day."  But  now  she  came  backing  down  on 
the  main  track  again.  It  is  just  half-past  four ;  the 
sun  is  shining  brightly.  The  final  martial  order  is 
given:  ''All  aboard;  Company  G,  get  in  these  two 
cars  here  ;"  the}'  bounce  in  ;  some  little  delay  again  ; 
it  is  twent}-  minutes  of  five.  Hark  !  Three  long, 
loud,  .shrill  whistles  go  up  from  the  locomotive.  An- 
other minttte,  the  wheels  are  .seen  to  move.  Walter, 
with  some  others,  has  jumped  on  the  top  of  his  car; 
the  movement  of  the  train  is  quite  perceptible  now  ; 
he  waves  his  final  adieu  to  his  mother  ;  the  train  is 
moving  faster  ;  the  populace  is  drowning  the  sotmd  of 
the  locomotive  with  their  cheers.  The  front  of  the 
train  has  rounded  the  upper  part  of  the  depot ;  it  is  out 
of  sight ;  the  cheers  grow  louder,  the  handkerchiefs  are 


MRS.  GRAHAM    IS   RESIGNED.  187 

flying  thicker  and  faster  from  fair  ladies'  hands,  the 
soldiers  are  waving  their  flag,  their  voices  are  swelling 
the  notes  of  the  Star  Spangled  Banner.  The  rear  of 
the  train  has  passed  the  depot,  the  smoke  of  the  engine 
is  fading,  fading;  'tis  faded  away.  The  rear  of  the 
train  has  passed;  'tis  going;  'tis  out  of  sight;  it  is  gone. 
Will  it  ever  come  back  to  Sharwood,  bringing  Walter 
Graham  with  it  ?  That  was  the  question  Mrs.  Graham 
asked  herself,  as  she  turned  her  face  away,  and  an- 
swered it  to  herself,  saying,  God  only  knows,  and  to 
him  I  can  only  sa}^  "  Thy  will  be  done,  not  mine." 


(Q) 


CHAPTER    XII. 

SHOCKTOlViX  I.X  MOfR\I.\G. 

"  Thy  brow, 
Glorious  ill  beauty  though  it  l)e,  is  scarred 
With  tokens  of  old  wars.''  —Biyant. 
"Not  painlessly  doth  God  recast, 
And  mould  anew  the  Nation." — W'hittier. 

iy /TRS.  GRAHAM,  accompanied  by  Miss  Lesher, 
^^  turned  her  steps  toward  the  depot  to  take  her 
own  train  for  Shocktown.  But  Walter's  train  kept 
rolling  on  in  the  opposite  direction.  He  sat  with  Dave 
Miller  and  Bob  Long  on  the  top  of  the  car,  viewing  the 
county  in  that  autumn  sunset  through  the  twilight 
and  far  into  the  night.  They  finally  crawled  down  and 
through  the  window  into  the  car.  The  seats  were  all 
occupied,  and  several  of  the  men  were  stretched  out  on 
the  floor.  Walter  got  his  musket,  rested  the  butt  of  it 
on  the  floor,  the  top  of  it  against  the  side  of  the  car, 
squatted  down  in  a  sitting  posture  with  his  legs  astride 
it,  with  his  arms  arotnid  it,  and  endeavored  to  sleep 
while  his  train  plunged  on  over  hill  and  valley,  through 
ravine  and  forest,  he  knew  not  whither,  save  that  it  was 
generally  understood  their  regiment  had  been  assigned 
to  one  of  the  divisions  of  the  West. 

His  short  naps  were  usually  broken  by  some  one 
tramping  on  his  toes,  or  tumbling  on  him.  Towards 
midnight  the  train  stopped  at  a  town  that  looked  about 
the  size  of  Sharwood.  There  they  were  ordered  to  get 
out  and  take  supper ;    the  citizens  of  the  town  had 


SHOCKTOWN   IN   MOURNING.  189 

something  prepared.  The  ladies  seemed  to  be  out  in 
force,  helping  to  wait  on  the  table.  While  they  ate, 
speeches  were  made  by  the  Hon.  Mr.  Grass,  and  Hon. 
Mr.  Brass.  An  hour  later  he  was  back  in  his  car,  but 
had  no  seat.  Some  time  before  daylight  the  train 
stopped,  jerked  up,  and  started,  and  stopped,  and 
backed,  and  finally  stood  still  until  daylight.  The 
boys  looked  out,  and  said  we  are  at  the  outskirts  of  the 
clever  little  town.  They  were  ordered  out,  formed  in 
line,  marched  around  ;  the  rain  was  coming  down  in 
torrents,  they  marched  through  the  town  to  the  other 
side  ;  there  they  halted  for  breakfast.  Again  some 
provisions  seemed  to  be  provided  for  them,  but  the 
mess  pots  and  the  coffee  pots  were  directly  under  the 
droppings  of  a  shed  roof.  Walter  looked  around,  and 
said  "he  believed  he  was  not  hungry."  He  felt  in 
his  haversack  for  the  sandwiches  his  mother  had  pro- 
vided for  him  ;  out  of  that  abundant  supply  there  was 
only  half  a  one  there ;  he  ate  that  and  slipped  off  with 
Bill  Boyle  to  get  an  03\ster  stew. 

They  lay  there  until  the  middle  of  the  afternoon, 
and  then  started  off  on  another  train,  and  passed 
through  about  the  same  experiences  until  the  next 
morning.  Daylight  gradually  stole  upon  them  while  they 
were  again  lying  switched  on  a  side  track  ;  again  they 
were  at  the  outskirts  of  a  city,  a  large  one  this  time  ;  it 
was  Cincinnati.  Again  the  rain  was  pouring  fast; 
again  they  marched  through  the  .streets  to  some  other 
point  on  the  out.skirts.  As  they  broke  ranks,  their 
captain  told  them  they  might  take  shelter  under  the 
projecting  eaves  of  an  adjoining  warehouse.  It  did  not 
seem  to  be  a  very  ample  protection  for  a  hundred  men, 
as  the  roof  extended  over  the  sides  of  the  building  only 


190  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

about  three  and  a  half  feet,  and  yet  it  is  wonderful  how 
nearly  it  was  sufficient  on  this  occasion.  Walter  again 
looked  around.  He  saw  mud  in  superabundance,  but 
his  ej'e  happened  to  catch  one  little  handful  of  straw 
about  large  enough,  as  the  boys  said,  to  make  a  hen's 
nest.  This  he  gathered  up  carefull}-,  laid  it  back 
against  the  wall,  and  then  laid  his  hand  and  shoulders 
down  on  it,  his  feet  drawn  carefully  up  to  keep  him  out 
of  the  heaviest  droppings  from  the  roof,  his  gum 
blanket  under  him,  his  overcoat  thrown  over  him,  and 
there  he  slept  the  sleep  of  exhaustion. 

Ah,  Walter,  Walter  !  are  you  quite  sure,  even  now, 
that  you  "understood  thoroughly  what  you  were  going 
into?  "  You  told  your  mother  so,  but  even  she  doubted 
it.  I  can  only  say  for  you,  however,  that  you  have  at 
least  not  regretted  your  step,  and  that  you  have  taken 
one  more  resolution  on  yourself — that  your  mother 
shall  never  know  from  your  pen  what  you  are  endur- 
ing. It  is  therefore  unnecessary  to  follow  you  all 
through  what  is  yet  to  come.  How  you  awoke  some- 
what refreshed,  but  considerably  stiff;  how  you  went 
with  Henry  Kerr  and  Dave  Miller  that  afternoon  to  see 
Cincinnati,  and  to  the  theatre  that  night  to  hear  Ham- 
let ;  how  you  felt  your  pockets  the  next  morning  to 
find  those  two  five- dollar  gold  pieces,  which  your  father 
gave  you,  were  gone  ;  how  your  regiment  got  on  a 
large  steamboat  the  next  day  and  sailed  down  the  Ohio 
River  ;  how  you  stopped  at  a  point  about  three  in  the 
afternoon,  and  marched  about  five  miles  across  the  coun- 
try, where  you  met  some  other  troops. 

How  your  two  old  teachers,  Messrs.  Wagner  and 
Flora,  looked  around  and  said,  "  Shall  we  go  by  threes 
or  Sves  ?"    "In  either  case  I  think,  Walter,  we  will  take 


SHOCKTOWN    IN    MOURNING.  191 

you  herewith  us,"  said  Mr.  Wagner;  "I  know  your 
mother  expects  you  to  bunk  with  me.'"  How  Dave 
Miller  and  Henry  Kerr  finally  joined  you;  the  tent 
being  up,  how  they  all  said,  "Now  Walter,  you  are 
the  youngest  ;  perhaps  you  had  better  crawl  into  the 
far  end  ;"  how  you,  the  youngest  of  the  gioup  (and 
there  were  not  thirty  boys  in  all  the  regiment 
younger  than  yourself),  crawled  into  the  far  end  ;  how 
you  all  lay  down  that  night  on  the  naked  soil  of  Ken- 
tucky, looked  out  through  the  cracks  of  your  canvas  and 
saw  the  "  stars  and  the  dew-drops  waiting  for  you  ;  " 
how  you  awoke  the  next  morning  in  the  mist  and  rain, 
with  3'our  legs  aching,  your  back  aching,  your  head 
aching,  your  appetite  missing ;  how  you  poured  down 
your  throat,  even  with  the  approval  of  Mr.  Wagner, 
and  by  the  prescription  of  Dr  Cain,  a  pretty  stiff  draft 
of  whisky  from  the  canteen  ;  how  it  seemed  to  break  up 
and  tide  you  over  the  first  shock  of  malaria  ;  how  you 
went  on  to  drill  that  forenoon  all  the  same,  determined 
not  to  be  the  first  man  in  your  company  to  ask  to  be 
excused.  But  why  go  into  detail  ;  why  stop  to  tell 
you  all  the  weary  days  and  nights  that  Walter  marched 
up  and  down  Kentucky  and  Tennessee  with  the  old 
Seventy-fifth,  tired  by  day,  and  home-sick  by  night, 
until  far  into  the  winter,  when  he  stood  at  the  gates 
of  Fort  Donaldson  and  heard  the  cannons  roar  and  saw 
the  missiles  fly,  and  knew  that  the  news  would  soon 
spread  through  old  Jefferson  County  that  his  regiment 
had  been  engaged  ;  that  he  had  witnessed  those  fifteen 
thousand  rebels  unconditionally  surrender  their  arms 
to  Unconditional  Surrender  Grant.  True,  the  old  Sev- 
enty-fifth had  not  been  in  the  thickest  of  the  fray,  nor 
had  its  loss  been  severe,  as  it  consisted  of  none  killed 


102  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

and  two  wounded  :  but  still,  they  were  veterans  now  ; 
no  discounting  that  fact  ;  the  girls  about  Shocktown 
would  be  sure  to  hear  it,  and,  perchance  the  fact  might 
even  reach  Blanch  Morton's  ears,  though  he  knew  she 
was  now  away  at  Vassar  College 

Wh}'  stop  now,  Walter,  to  crowd   into   a  few  pages 
that  part  of  yiur  history,  which  seemed  to  older  men 
than  yourself  to  include  centuries  ;  how  two  months-^ 
later  you  stood  on  Shiloh's  bloody  field,  and  saw  for  two 
and  thirty  hours  the  result   hang   doubtfully   in    the 
balance  ;  how  in  the  very  last  ten  minutes  of  that  gory 
contest  you  felt  something  like  a  sharp  sting  prick  your 
right  arm.  The  victory  was  won,  but  you  were  wounded. 
The  loss  of  the  old  Seventy-fifth  was  severe  enough 
this  time,  but  her  record  was  established  ;  j'^our  injur}^ 
was  but  a  slight  one  through  the  fleshy  part  of  your 
arm,  but  it  was  sufficient  to  make  you  a  hero  at  Shock- 
town.     Your  vigorous  constitution  .served  you  remark- 
ably   well,    and    the   wound    healed    \vith    wonderful 
rapidity,  detaining  you  in  the  hospital  only  two  weeks, 
during  which  time  you  could  hardl}"  have  told  which 
was   gratified    the   most,  your   boyish    pride,  or   your 
curiosity  to  experience  the  .sensations  of  one  in  actual 
battle.     How  the  spring  passed  and  the  summer  came, 
and  you  were  still  trudging   through  the  swamps  of 
Mi.ssissippi,  and   over  Arkansas  roads,  ankle  deep  with 
mud,  inhaling   miasma    and   fighting   malaria.     How 
you  stopped  one  day  in  Tennessee  to  help  construct  a 
railroad,  when  the  brigadier  general  came  along  inquir- 
ing "if  there  was  anyone  in    this  brigade  who  could 
repair  an  engine  ;  "  how  you  saw  a  lieutenant  from  an 
Iowa  regiment  step  up  to  examine  it  ;   how  j'ou  looked 
in  his  face  for  a  minute  and  exclaimed,  "  Hello,  Sam. 


SHOCKTOWN    IN    MOURNING.  193 

Blair,  where  did  you  come  from  ?  "  How  he  looked  in 
your  face  for  an  instant  and  exclaimed,  "  Good  heavens, 
this  isn't  little  Graham,  is  it,  that  used  to  sit  on  the 
bank  by  the  old  school-house  and  watch  me  and  little 
And}'  Jackson  stall  around  the  curve?"  and  how  you 
explained  that  it  was,  and  how  many  others  of  the 
Shocktown  boys  were  there,  and  he  explained  how  he 
had  gone  to  Iowa  some  years  before,  was  master 
mechanic  in  the  shops  of  one  of  the  principal  roads 
there  when  the  war  broke  out,  and,  now  behold,  you 
have  met  dowm  here  in  Tennessee  under  rather  peculiar 
circumstances. 

Nay!  more,  Walter.  How,  as  the  summer  rolled  on, 
you  began  to  inquire  more  seriously  in  your  mind  what 
you  were  all  down  there  for.  How  you  were  impressed, 
and  have  been  ever  since  the  e^-ening  of  the  4th  day  of 
July,  when  an  old  contraband  negro,  apparently  in  age 
anywhere  from  eighty  to  a  hundred  years,  strayed  into 
your  camp,  and  after  furnishing  amusement  for  the 
boys  for  a  considerable  time,  a.sked  you  and  Mr.  Wag- 
ner in  a  very  quizzical  manner,  "  If  you  has  'eluded  to 
take  our  people  in  wid  you  in  dis  fight  yet."  That  he, 
upon  receiving  the  somewhat  faltering  answer  from 
both  of  you  that  you  believed  not,  replied,  with  a  glare 
in  his  eyes  that  astonished  j^ou,  "Well,  you  wall  'fore 
it  over. "  "  Why  ?  "  "  Why,  because  de  good  lyOrd  tell 
me  dat  you  nebber  get  troo  wid  wat  you  undertaken, 
until  you  let  our  peoples  go. ' ' 

How  Mr.  Wagner  said  to  you,  three  days  after,  "Wal- 
ter, has  that  old  darkey's  conversation,  or  rather  pro- 
phecy, been  on  your  mind  an}'  since  you  heard  it?" 

"Wonderfully  so,"  was  your  reply;  and  how  he 
asked  you  the  further  question,  if  you  remembered  the 
9 


U)4  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

answer  you  gave  him  up  in  the  little  academy  the  day 
old  John  Brown  was  hung,  about  us  all  going  down 
South  on  the  same  errand.  How  you  replied,  "  Yes,  I 
recollect  something  of  it,  but  I  am  forced  to  say  there 
was  no  prophecy  in  mine ;  it  was  unwittingly  given." 

How  Mr.  Wagner  replied,  "  Just  so  ;  I  understood  it 
so  at  the  time,  and  yet  those  two  circumstances  have 
been  in  my  head  constantly  ever  since  we  met  the  old 
darkey." 

Yes,  Walter,  Mr.  Wagner,  people  of  the  North,  all 
of  3^ou,  seme  thought  like  that  began  to  creep  slowly 
into  your  heads.  Foreigners  began  to  ask  what  are 
the  two  sections  fighting  about ;  both  sides  declare  the}' 
d(jn't  intend  to  disturb  slavery.  The  question  was  per- 
tinent, and  well  calculated  to  cause  reflection.  Yes, 
Walter,  you  remember  so  distinctly  how  the  papers 
from  the  North  began  to  come  down  to  you,  telling  of 
the  disastrous  campaign  of  McClellan  and  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac  on  the  Peninsula  and  before  Richmond, 
of  the  retreat  of  Pope  from  Cedar  Mountain  to  Bull 
Run,  of  the  second  defeat  of  our  army  there,  of  our 
whole  forces  east  of  the  Alleghenies  being  practically 
back  inside  of  the  fortifications  of  Washington,  where 
they  were  a  year  before.  You  remember,  also,  how  the 
letters  from  home  told  you  of  the  feelings  of  gloom  and 
apprehension  which  began  to  pervade  the  people  of  the 
North  ;  how  the  call  for  "300,000  more"  was  being  re- 
sponded to  ;  how  the  second  crop  of  boys  from  about 
Shocktown  included  Joe  and  George  Miller,  Jake  Hoover 
and  Frank  and  Tom  Swave.  That  was  the  part  that 
gratified  you  most ;  it  vindicated  your  opinion  of  your 
friend,  and  proved  that,  for  once,  a  mother's  instincts 
were  wrong.     Yes,   Mrs.   Graham,  you  shall  see  that 


SHOCKTOWN   IN   MOURNING.  195 

easy-going,  smart  Tom  Swave  was  made  of  better  stuff 
than  you  had  supposed,  for  no  man  could  charge  him, 
or  any  other  person  who  went  at  this  crisis,  with  enter- 
taining the  hope  that  his  regiment  might  not  be 
ordered  to  the  front.  And  you  were  obHged  to  write 
to  Walter  with  your  own  hand  farther  on,  that  Frank 
was  seized  with  a  violent  fever  a  few  months  after  he 
left  ;  that  he  lingered  and  wasted,  and  finally  died  in 
the  hospital  ;  that  he  was  brought  home  one  cold  win- 
try day,  and  laid  in  the  little  church-yard  grave  ;  what 
a  hard  case  it  seemed  to  be!  Poor  Mrs.  Swave  was  in 
such  delicate  health  herself,  unable  really  to  follow  him 
to  the  grave,  and  then  her  other  only  son  and  onlj' 
child  away  in  the  artrly  at  the  time  ;  but  the  S3mipathy 
for  her  seemed  universal.  No  funeral  in  the  neighbor- 
hood had  ev^er  been  so  large.  Poor  Miss  lycsher  was 
one  of  the  unfeigned  mourners  at  it.  She  made  no 
concealment  of  the  fact  that  she  had  promised  to  be  his 
wife,  if  he  ever  lived  to  come  home. 

Before  the  next  winter's  snows  had  fallen  you  were 
compelled  to  write  still  further  to  your  own  dear 
Walter,  that  Tom  had  passed  safely,  but  with  great 
credit  to  himself,  through  the  terrible  carnage  wrought 
on  the  blood}^  fields  of  Antietam,  Fredericksburg  and 
Chancellorsville,  only  to  be  carried  on  a  stretcher  from 
the  immortal  field  of  Gettj-sburg,  with  his  right  leg  so 
lacerated  that  he  would  never  entirely  bear  his  weight 
upon  it  again  ;  lamed  for  life,  to  walk  with  a  cane  for- 
ever after,  with  the  heel  of  one  boot  made  an  inch 
higher  than  the  other  to  give  him  proper  equipoise. 
How  an  imprudent  news-boy  ran  through  the  village 
streets,  two  days  after  the  battle,  screaming  out,  "  Shar- 


i 


196  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

wood  papers!  full  account  of  our  own  losses!  Jefferson 
County's  gallant  heroes!  severe  loss  of  the  One  Hun- 
dred and  Seventeenth!  Colonel  L,ightner  killed!  I,ieu- 
tenant  Swave  mortally  wounded  !  "  How  poor  Mrs. 
Swave,  weak  and  emaciated,  sitting  by  her  chamber 
window,  heard  the  sounds,  and  sank  back  on  her  bed 
never  to  rise  again.  How  3^ou,  yourself,  had  gone  to 
her  side  to  minister  to  her  day  and  night.  How 
kind  neighbors  rushed  in  with  later  messages  to  tell 
her  that  Thomas  was  not  mortally  wounded  after  all ; 
it  was  only  severely.  How  a  letter  came  in  a  few  days 
in  his  own  hand-writing,  saying,  "  Dear  mother,  don't 
be  alarmed  ;  I  am  only  slightl}'  injured."  How  Jacob 
had  dropped  all  business  and  gone  to  Gettysburg  to 
relieve  her  mind,  and  do  whatever  else  he  could.  But 
it  was  all  too  late.  The  .shock  had  been  too  great  for 
her  enfeebled  constitution.  She  gradually  sank  lower 
and  died.  Died.  Another  victim  of  the  war  ;  just  as 
much  as  though  she  had  been  killed  on  the  field  of 
battle.  But  Tom  himself  came  home  before  another 
snow  had  fallen,  with  his  honorable  discharge  for 
physical  disability  and  his  commission  as  captain  from 
the  governor  for  gallantry  on  the  field  of  battle. 

For  this  digression  from  Walter  back  to  the  scenes 
at  Shocktown  and  the  Swave  family  I  hope  the  reader 
will  pardon  me,  especially  since  it  is  but  relating  the 
news  contained  in  his  mother's  letters  since  the  July 
of  1862,  when  we  left  him  down  in  the  army  of  the 
Southwest,  pondering  with  Mr.  Wagner  over  the  old 
darkey's  prophecy.  And  there  he  kept  pondering,  and 
marching,  ditching,  and  skirmishing,  until  one  bleach- 
ing hot  day  in  September  there  came  a  paper  containing 
the  preliminary  proclamation  of  emancipation.  It  was 
commented  on  considerably  through  the  ranks,  though 


I 


SHOCKTOWN   IN   MOURISIING.  197 

not  quite  as  adversely  as  he  had  expected.  Of  course, 
he  stood  up  for  it  stoutly,  and  he  could  not  but  notice 
how  fast  the  boys  were  beginning  to  endorse  it.  In 
fact,  adversity  makes  converts  rapidly.  The  Union 
defeat  at  Fredericksburg  the  following"  winter  had 
rather  deepened  the  gloom  of  the  Union  army.  "Any 
port  will  do  in  time  of  storm,"  began  to  be  the  expres- 
sion that  Walter  heard  fall  from  the  lips  of  those  who 
he  knew  would  have  bitterly  opposed  the  idea  of  inter- 
fering with  slavery  in  the  States  when  the  war  com- 
menced. 

But  the  conversion  which  astounded  him  most  was  Bill 
Boyle's,  who,  one  day  in  February,  as  they  were  march- 
ing along  through  the  mud,. exhausted  and  hungry, 
turned  his  head  and  said  abruptly,  "  Walt.,  do  you  re- 
member the  da}-  you  thrashed  me  at  the  old  school- 
house  for  abusing  that  little  nigger,  Ben.  Smith?  " 

"I  remember  something  of  it,"  said  Walter,  "but 
I  hope  we  have  both  forgiven  each  other  long  since." 

"Well,  I'm  sure  now  I  have  forgiven  3^ou,"  replied 
Bill,  "whatever  doubt  I  may  have  had  on  the  subject 
heretofore.  What  I  want  to  say  to  you  now  is  that  I 
deserved  that  thrashing,  and  I  thank  you  for  giving  it 
to  me.  I  want  you  to  tell  your  father  in  the  next  letter 
you  write  home,  that  I  am  an  Abolitionist  now  ;  as  big 
a  one  as  ever  old  John  Williamson  was  or  ever  dare  be. 
Tell  him  that  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  let  a  nigger  .stop 
a  rebel  bullet  before  me,  and  if  he  is  good  enough  to 
do  that,  he  is  good  enough  to  be  free.  Of  course,  I'm 
atoning  for  my  sins  at  a  pretty  rapid  rate  down  here 

just  now,  but  its  a  d -d  strange  thing  to  me  if  little 

Ben.  Smith  and  his  whole  race  are  not  avenged  before 
this  war  is  over.     God  Almighty  hasn't  sent  this  whole 


198  WALTER   OR  AH  AM,    STATESMAN. 

thing  on  this  nation  for  nothing,  is  just  the  opinion  I 
have  come  to." 

Do  you  remember? — of  course  you  do — The  look 
of  astonishment  you  gave  him  as  you  slapped  him  on 
the  shoulder,  clasped  him  by  the  hand  and  said,  "  Oh, 
Bill,  I  will  write  it  all  home  to  father  and  to  Mr.  Wil- 
liamson himself." 

What  a  glorious  thing,  Walter,  your  vision  did  not 
carry  you  three  months  into  the  future,  when  you  were 
destined  to  stand  at  Champion's  Hill,  while  inch  by 
inch  that  ground  was  being  contested  in  deadly  strife, 
and  you  saw  poor  Bill  hurled  instantly  into  eternity  be- 
fore your  eyes.  Great  God  ! — in  pity  goes  the  exclama- 
tion up  from  your  soul ;  yes,  poor  Bill,  his  sins  are 
atoned  for  now.  Darkey  Ben.  Smith  is  avenged,  while 
he  is  far  away  on  Morris  Island,  also  wearing  a  suit  of 
blue.  What  a  fortunate  thing,  Walter,  you  did  not 
know  that  you  had  yet  to  charge  with  the  gallant  old 
Seventy-fifth  before  those  ramparts  at  Vicksburg,  and 
help  to  carry  your  old  teacher,  Mr.  Wagner,  who  was 
to  take  a  kind  of  parental  care  of  you,  off  the  field, 
bleeding  from  a  ghastly  wound  in  his  side.  How  your 
regiment  was  to  dig  and  ditch  during  that  long  siege, 
which  was  to  ultimately  force  that  Gibralter  of  the 
Mississippi  to  surrender  to  the  inflexible  Grant.  How 
you  were  to  see  Bob  Long  seized  with  di.sease,  waste 
away  in  a  field  hospital  to  death,  to  be  carried  out  and 
buried  in  a  trench. 

Ah,  Walter  !  Vicksburg  has  now  surrendered,  but 
your  end  is  not  yet,  your  three  years  not  nearly  expired, 
though  you  have  never  flinched,  nor  sent  home  a  re- 
gretful word  ;  but  you  would  like  to  see  old  Shock- 
town,  all  the  same,  once  more,  and  the  loved  ones  that 


SHOCKTOWN    IN    MOURNING.  199 

are  praying  for  you  there.  But  you  have  yet  to  stand 
on  Missionary  Ridge's  bloody  crest,  and  see  once  more 
the  ranks  of  the  old  Seventy-fifth  defeated  by  rebel 
shot  and  shell.  You  shall  stand  and  distinctly  watch 
one  fall  on  a  rock  before  you,  burst  into  a  thousand 
fragments,  knock  Mr.  Flora's  right  eye  out,  while  one 
little  sharp  particle  of  it  passes  diagonall}^  over  the 
temple  of  your  own  right  brow,  cutting  a  little  scar  there 
three-fourths  of  an  inch  long,  almost  as  perfectly  as  if 
done  with  a  knife.  You  shall  rush  forv^^ard  even  then 
to  see  who  is  this  lying  dead,  while  you  both  exclaim, 
Great  God,  its  Adjutant  L,esher !  Poor  Miss  lycsher, 
she  has  alread}'  buried  a  lover,  now  you  will  send 
home  to  her  the  dead  body  of  a  brother.  Meanwhile 
she  begins  to  wonder  if  the  Southerners  are  something 
more  than  ' '  a  perfect  set  of  blowhorns. ' ' 

But  as  all  things  earthly  have  an  end,  so  there  came 
a  day  at  last  when  Walter  Graham  turned  his  face 
toward  Chattanooga  to  take  the  cars  for  Shocktown. 
The  epaulettes  of  a  first  lieutenant  are  upon  his  shoul- 
ders, placed  there  not  by  political  favor  and  intrigue, 
but  by  reason  of  valor  and  scars.  The  one  above  his 
eye  which  he  was  afraid  might  disfigure  him,  healed  to 
be  almost  imperceptible,  though  still  distinct  enough 
to  be  seen  upon  ordinary  inspection.  Nay,  not  enough 
to  disfigure  you,  Walter,  but  rather  to  serve  as  your 
future  passport  to  place  and  power  ;  that  admiring 
friends  may  say  veritably, 

"Thy  brow,  glorious  with  beauty  though  it  be 
Is  scarred  with  tokens  of  old  wars." 

He  boarded  a  north-bound  train,  but  his  eagerness  to 
reach  home  far  outran  the  speed  of  the  cars.  He 
turned  his  glance  backwards,  and  thought  about  all 


200  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

that  had  happened  since  the  evening  he  had  so  softly 
broken  to  his  mother  his  intentions  under  the  old 
cherry  tree  at  home.  Candor  compelled  him  to  say 
that  he  must  now  answer  her  question  differentl}',  that 
he  did  not  have  at  that  time  a  very  definite  idea  of 
what  he  was  going  into,  but  he  did  now  have  a  far  more 
comprehensive  idea  of  what  was  yet  to  happen  to  the 
nation,  as  he  surveyed  the  field  and  saw  the  South 
was  still  far  from  being  conquered.  He  thought  of 
his  old  schoolmates  about  Shocktown  that  now  lay 
buried,  of  his  other  friends  and  comrades  maimed  for 
life,  of  the  hard  fortune  of  the  Swave  family,  of  the 
last  letter  he  had  received  from  Emma  Reed,  the  young 
heroine  of  the  South,  which  convej^ed  to  him  the  in- 
telligence that  her  father  had  been  killed  at  Kelley's 
Ford,  in  Virginia,  and  that  she  and  her  mother  were 
trying  to  make  a  living  by  keeping  a  little  millinery 
and  trimming  store  in  Mansdale.  All  this  rushed 
through  his  mind  as  he  drew  from  his  pocket  his  little 
passbook  and  diary,  and  looked  over  the  lines  of  a 
short  poem  of  Whittier's,  called  the  "  Furnace  Blast," 
which  his  mother  had  cut  out  of  a  newspaper  and  sent 
to  him.     He  read  aloud  the  first  four  lines  : 

"  We  wait  beneath  the  furnace  blast 
The  pangs  of  transportation  ; 

Not  painlessly  doth  God  recast, 
And  mould  anew  the  nation." 

He  stopped,  read  them  again,  and  said  thoughtfully, 
"I  should  think  not  "  But  in  due  time  he  put  the 
poem  back  in  his  pocket,  and  left  his  thoughts  waft  on  to 
Shocktown.  He  thought  of  all  the  nice  letters  he  had 
received  from  all  his  lady  friends  while  he  was  away  ; 
from   Miss   Ida  Reed   (Aunt  Mary's  daughter),   from 


SHOCKTOWN    IN    MOURNING.  201 

Maggie  Bernard,  from  Amelia  Kerr,  and  from  Miss 
Lesher.  Perhaps  he  understood  better  now  why  Miss 
Lesher  was  always  so  considerate,  closing  her  letters  by 
saying,  "While  I  am  always  pleased  to  hear  from  you, 
don't  feel  that  you  must  answer  this  letter  at  j^our  great 
inconvenience,  or  when  5'ou  feel  you  should  be  resting, 
rather  than  writing  to  your  friends."  Of  course  he  un- 
derstood that  all  these  girls  corresponded  with  him 
rather  from  a  sense  of  duty  which  all  the  patriotic  girls 
of  the  North  felt  that  they  should  send  any  sustain- 
ing word  they  could  to  their  acquaintances  in  the 
army.  But  a  strange  feeling  came  over  him  now  when 
he  reflected  that  in  all  this  time  he  had  never  received 
aline  from  Blanch  Morton.  "I  thought  I  had  suc- 
ceeded in  forgetting  her,"  he  said  to  himself,  "but  I 
find  I  have  not ;  I  remember  now — what  a  strange  fact! 
yes,  I  remember  in  the  very  charge  before  Vicksburg  I 
thought  of  her. ' " 

And  now  with  a  herculean  effort,  he  bid  once  more 
that  thought  be  still.  He  drew  from  his  pocket  his  last 
letter  from  his  mother.  He  read  it  over  three  times, 
while  tears  stole  slowly  down  his  cheeks.  He  doubted 
after  all  if  any  love  could  be  as  pure,  as  loj'al,  as  true, 
as  unselfish,  as  devoted,  as  sacrificing,  as  patient,  as 
abiding,  and  as  enduring  as  hers.  But  the  time  and 
train  both  have  been  passing  on.  It  is  passing  through 
Mansdale  ;  it  is  late  twilight ;  he  turns  his  eyes  invol- 
untarily towards  the  Morton  mansion.  He  sees  no  one 
that  he  knows,  not  even  Will.,  at  the  depot.  Halt!  They 
are  at  Shocktown.  Three  men  in  United  States  uni- 
form get  off  on  the  opposite  side  and  walk  away  in  the 
dark  unobser\-ed.     They  were  Major  Henry  Kerr,  Ser- 


202  WALTER    GRAHAM,    .STATESMAN. 

geant  Pat.  McKuight  and  First  Lieutenant  Walter  Gra- 
ham. They  walked  directly  to  their  respective  homes. 
Yes,  Walter  Graham  is  at  home.  The  joy  of  his 
mother,  the  delight  of  his  father,  the  pride  of  his  sisters, 
the  idol  of  his  brother,  and  one  of  Shocktown's  heroes. 


CHAPTER    XIII 


THE  INTERREGNUM. 


YES,  Walter  Graham  was  at  home  ;  but  it  was  on 
veteran  furlough.  Those  of  the  boys  who  had 
not  re-enlisted,  remained,  of  course,  to  finish  their 
three  years  ;  those  already  discharged  for  physical  dis- 
ability or  "  knocked  out,"  as  the  boys  termed  it,  were 
of  course  at  home  ;  and  those  who  had  re-enlisted  for 
another  three  years,  of  whom  Walter  was  one,  were 
merely  taking  a  thirty  days'  respite,  which  the  govern- 
ment granted  to  all  such. 

After  the  exuberant  joy  of  the  family  had  been 
spent  upon  him,  the  morning  come  and  the  breakfast 
over,  he  had  caught  his  breath  sufficiently  to  notice 
what  a  stout  boy  Joe  had  become,  "  but  thank  God,"  he 
thought,  "  not  old  enough  }^et  to  enlist."  He  beheld 
with  satisfaction  into  what  lovely  women  his  two  sisters 
were  developing.  Mary's  face  and  manner  were  .so  sin- 
cere and  honest,  and  Sue's  the  very  personification  of 
energy  and  determination.  His  father's  hair,  just  a 
little  frosted  now,  and  a  kind  of  drawn  expression  be- 
tween his  brows  which  he  had  never  noticed  before, 
and  which  an  oculist  had  told  him  was  the  prelude  to 
the  coming  glasses.  His  mother  had  hardly  aged  as 
much  as  he  had  expected,  but  he  could  detect  under- 
neath her  look  the  same  anxious  feeling  she  had  the 
day  he  bid  her  farewell  at  Sharwood.  The  forenoon 
was  spent  by  the  famjl^^  talking  over  all  the  events 


204  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATEvSMAN. 

of  the  neighborhood,  all  the  sad  incidents  of  the  war, 
the  prospects  of  its  continuance,  and  the  hope  of  peace. 
Walter  strolled  out  to  the  barn  with  Joe  before  dinner, 
to  see  the  gray  colt,  Frank,  now  grown  into  a  large 
stalwart  horse,  a  brilliant  succession  to  old  Dolly,  that 
had  died.  Simon's  coat  looked  as  gloss}^  and  well  kept 
as  ever,  to  which  fact  Joe  called  special  attention. 
Lucy  and  Flora  looked  their  same  old  selves,  and  they 
all  seemed  to  recognize  Walter,  when  he  addressed 
them,  as  old  familiar  friends.  Two  young  colts,  which 
had  arrived  since  Walter's  departure,  were  specially 
introduced  to  him  by  Joe. 

After  dinner,  callers  began  to  arrive,  the  first  of 
whom  was  Tom  Swave.  To  say  that  those  two  were 
glad  to  see  each  other,  but  feebly  expresses  it.  They 
actually  embraced  with  a  warmth  that  Sue  said  "Makes 
the  rest  of  us  jealous."  Walter  did  not  love  Tom 
Swave  better  than  his  own  family,  but  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  he  was  a  little  happier  now  to  see  him  than 
any  other  man  in  the  communit}',  for  it  was  equall}' 
true  that  they  two  could  enjoy  each  other's  experiences 
better  than  even  the  members  of  their  own  families. 
Not  even  the  bonds  of  consanguinity  could  understand 
or  grasp  those  silent  and  unwritten  experiences  of  hard- 
ship and  humor,  incident  to  the  camp,  as  those  who 
had  actively  tasted  of  them. 

"Well,  old  boy,  how  are  3'ou,  anyhow,"  exclaimed 
Tom.  "  Why  you  are  actually  looking  well  ;  some  of 
the  rest  of  us  thought  we  got  pretty  well  tanned  even 
in  Virginia,  and  I  supposed  you  would  have  left  your 
more  southern  region  a  full  fledged  mulatto." 

"  Oh,  no,  we  still  give  evidence  of  belonging  to  the 
Caucasian  race,"  replied  Walter,  "besides  you  know 


THE   INTKRRRGNUM.  205 

altitude  has  a  good  bit  to  do  with  climate  as  well  as 
latitude.  In  fact  it  was  not  so  very  warm  where  we 
have  been  lately,  about  the  region  of  Lookout  Mountain 
and  Missionary  Ridge."  "  I  guess  it  was  pretty  warm 
for  a  little  while  about  there,  was  it  not  ?  Let  me  see 
that  dip  they  gave  you  at  Missionary  Ridge.  Oh  !  it 
don't  disfigure  you  any  after  all,  though  when  I  look 
for  it,  I  see  distinctly  that  it  is  there.  Let  me  see, 
they  knocked  you  out  some  place  else,  didn't  they?" 

"Oh,  very  slightly  at  Shiloh,"  responded  Walter. 
' '  Neither  of  them  amount  to  anything,  but  how  is  it 
with  yourself,  Tom?  That  is  the  question  that  con- 
cerned me  most.  I  understood  your  matter  was  more 
serious.  Step  out  there  again.  Why,  you  don't  walk 
very  lame  after  all.  Your  figure  is  perfectly  erect,  and 
I  believe  a  little  better  looking  than  ever." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Tom,  "  I  am  only  decently  shelved, 
so  that  I  shall  miss  the  balance  of  the  fun  ;"  and  then 
smiling  significantl}^,  continued,  "or  happil}^  relieved 
from  it.  You  understand  the  feeling  Walt.  ?"  Then 
changing  his  smile,  he  said,  "  but  of  course  I  can't  feel 
too  thankful  for  my  present  situation,  when  I  reflect 
how  two  young  surgeons  were  whetting  their  knives 
for  their  experimental  amputation,  when  an  older  one 
in  citizen's  clothes  interposed,  saying,  'hold  on,  hold 
on  for  a  few  days,  I  see  no  absolute  necessity  for  that 
as  yet.'  " 

Walter  smiled  and  said,  "Well,  you  know  you 
always  were  a  lucky  fellow,  Tom  ;  you  always  could 
lie  down  and  glance  back  at  the  more  stupid  ones  be- 
hind, then,  like  the  coyote  of  the  far  West,  make  a 
fleet  bound  or  two  and  leave  the  rest  of  us  in  the  dis- 
tance.    And  here,    behold,    it    is   again  ;    you    didn't 


206  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

enlist  until  nearly  a  year  after  me,  and  now  you  are 
home  four  months  ahead  of  me,  honorably  discharged, 
and  with  a  commission  one  niche  above  me.  Well,  dear 
knows  you  have  earned  it  all.  The  men  who  passed 
through  Gettysburg,  prophets  are  already  predicting, 
have  seen  the  most  eventful  battle  of  the  century. 
Creasy  must  add  a  sixteenth  to  his  fifteen  world  bat- 
tles. ' ' 

"Ah,  Walt.!"  rejoined  Tom,  "  you  need  have  no 
fears  about  me  ultimately  surpassing  you.  You  always 
could  come  in  wonderfully  strong  on  the  home-stretch. 
If  I  had  5'our  powers  of  endurance  I  would  give  a  good 
bit.  Remember,  boy,  I'm  alreadj'  at  my  end  ;  yours  is 
not  here  yet,  in  fact.  Don't  be  too  sure  that  Gettys- 
burg may  hold  to  the  end  as  the  pivotal  point  in  the 
contest,  we  have  alreadj-  had  so  many  turning  points 
in  this  conflict." 

"Very  true,"  said  Waller  thoughtfully  ;  "  that  is,  I 
mean  your  remarks  about  Gettysburg  But  still,  while 
I  thoroughly  believe  that  we  still  have  to  pass  through 
severer  contests  than  perhaps  even  Gettysburg,  I  be- 
lieve now  that  the  rebellion  will  ultimately  be  sup- 
pressed, and  peace  established  on  our  own  terms  ;  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  if  Lee  had  been  able  to  maintain 
his  ground  at  Gettysburg,  to  have  permanently  trans- 
ferred the  seat  of  war  from  Virginia  to  Pennsylvania, 
it  might  have  produced  results  at  least  unpleasant  to 
contemplate. 

"  My,  but  you  boys  talk  diiferently  about  this  con- 
test than  you  did  two  years  ago,"  said  Mrs.  Graham. 

"Yes,  mother,  we  are  wiser  now,  especially  I.  If 
I  remember  rightly,  Tom  did  comprehend  a  little  later 


THE   INTERREGNUM.  207 

than  I  its  magnitude,  but  neither  of  us  as  clearly  as 
you,  mother." 

"Mrs.  Graham  has  a  natural  gift  for  seeing  things 
clearly,"  said  Tom. 

Walter  smiled  approvingly,  Mrs  Graham  blushed 
modestly,  and  Tom  continued,  "Well,  how  are  all  the 
boys  3'ou  left  behind,  anyhow,  and  those  that  came 
with  you  ?  Henry  Kerr  is  home,  I  understand  ;  we 
must  go  over  and  see  him,  Walt.,  and  Pat.  is  looking 
well.  I  saw  him  this  morning.  It  was  he  that  sped 
the  news  of  3'our  being  home  ;  he  was  at  the  store  this 
morning.  I  told  father  I  was  coming  right  over  as 
soon  as  I  got  m}'  dinner. ' '  It  would  be  useless  to  fol- 
low the  conversation  further,  except  to  say  that  Walter 
answered  his  questions  as  fast  as  he  could  and  then 
plied  a  series  of  his  own  to  Tom  in  return,  such  as, 
' '  How  is  your  father  ? "  "  How  are  all  the  other 
boys  in  the  neighborhood  ? ' '  "How  is  Mart.  Bernard  ? ' ' 
"  How  are  the  girls?  "  "  What  are  the  Bowers  boys 
doing ?  "  "I  believe  neither  of  them  enlisted  at  any 
time,  did  they?"  "Mart.  Bernard  has  not,  either,  I 
suppose,  but  then  he  is  an  only  son  and  really  I  should 
say  excusable."  "Do  you  ever  see  Will.  Morton?" 
To  all  of  which  Tom  replied  as  fast  as  he  could,  giving 
the  appropriate  answers,  saying,  "As  to  Mart.  Bernard, 
I  think  as  you  have  said,  that  he  is  excusable  under 
the  circumstances,  and,  besides.  Mart,  and  his  father 
have  both  given  their  whole  moral  support  and  influ- 
ence to  the  cause  ;  the  fact  of  the  matter  is  Mart,  wears 
very  well  as  he  ages.  He  has  now  an  interest  in  the 
business,  I  believe.  That  little  stiff  way  that  he  used 
to  have  about  him  was,  I  suppose,  a  natural  dignity 
that  he  could  not  help."    "As  to  the  Bowers  boys," 


208  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Tom  continued  with  a  smile,  "  I  believe  High,  would 
have  enlisted  long  ago,  if  it  were  not  for  that  trouble 
with  his  larynx,  an  affection  he  has  alwa3'S  had  in  his 
throat,  and  some  reports  say  Ben.  has  suddenly  got  a 
year  or  two  younger  than  we  always  considered  him, 
and  some  say  that  it  is  because  he  knows  it  would  kill 
his  mother.  The  last  time  I  talked  with  High,  he  was 
especially  indignant  at  these  conscientious  people,  some 
of  the  Friends  who  live  over  in  Hamilton  Count}',  and 
a  few  of  those  German  Mennonites,  who  have  settled 
in  the  upper  part  of  this  township.  Oh,  yes,  you  asked 
about  Will.  Morton ;  I  see  him  occasionally.  He 
seems  as  nice  as  ever.  He  was  out  about  six  months, 
I  think,  after  he  came  home  from  the  three  months' 
service  in  the  commissary  department.  But  he  is  at 
home  now.  In  fact,  his  father  needs  him  in  his  busi- 
ness. The  only  thing  I  fear  for  Will,  sometimes  is, 
that  maybe  he  is  getting  a  little  fast. ' ' 

Walter  was  silent  for  a  moment  and  then  began  in  a 
meditative  voice:  "  I  am  in  hopes  Will,  may  come  out 
all  right.  I  always  liked  him.  I  wish  he  would  come 
and  .see  me."  Then,  changing  his  countenance  with  a 
smile,  continued,  "So  High.  Bowers  has  been  burning 
with  a  desire  to  go,  which  his  physical  infirmities  have 
been  able  to  resist  up  to  this  time,  has  he?" 

' '  Yes,  I  suppose  that  is  what  might  be  inferred  from 
the  remark,"  replied  Tom,  with  some  expression  of 
humor  on  his  countenance. 

"That  was  the  inference  intended  at  least,"  replied 
Walter  ;  "  and  Ben.  is  very  considerate  of  his  mother, 
is  he?     Well,  I  suppose  we  must  not  judge." 

Tom  closed   his   eyes  for  a  moment,  rocked  rather 


THE    INTERREGNUM.  209 

vigorously  in  his  chair  and  simply  said,   "I  suppose 
not." 

Mrs.  Graham  turned  her  back,  searched  vigorously 
for  a  spool  of  cotton  in  her  work-basket  and  said  noth- 
ing. Tom  continued  after  an  instant,  "  I  feel  sure  as 
to  Will.  Morton,  Walt.,  that  he  will  come  to  see  you  as 
soon  as  he  hears  of  your  being  at  home  ;  he  always 
speaks  of  3'ou  in  the  most  friendly  and  complimentar}- 
manner. ' ' 

But,  as  already  stated,  why  follow  in  further  detail 
this  conversation.  I,et  it  be  brieflly  stated,  Walter  and 
Tom  went  out  for  a  short  stroll.  The}'  did  not  go  in 
the  direction  of  the  village,  but  up  through  the  woods 
and  around  b}'  the  head  of  the  dam,  out  onto  the  road, 
where,  whom  should  they  meet  but  High.  Bowers  going 
to  Shocktown.  They  stopped,  of  course;  High,  was 
profuse  in  his  expressions  of  pleasure  at  seeing  Walter; 
said  he  had  intended  to  call  on  him,  of  course,  as  soon 
as  he  heard  of  his  being  home  ;  gave  him  the  most 
pressing  invitation  to  "  come  over  and  see  us;  spend  a 
whole  day  with  us;  no  one  will  be  more  pleased  to  see 
you  than  the  old  governor  himself."  For  all  of  which 
Walter  thanked  him  politely  and  said  he  would  try  and 
find  time  to  call  on  them,  at  least  before  he  went  back, 
though  his  time  would  be  considerably  occupied.  And 
indeed,  it  would  be  a  severe  judgment  to  pass. upon 
High.  Bowers  to  say  that  there  was  not  even  a  grain  of 
sincerit)^  in  all  that  he  had  said,  especialh^  when  we 
consider  the  absolute  certainty  of  one  thing,  that  he  felt 
now  it  was  rather  a  mark  of  credit,  than  otherwise,  to 
appear  as  the  especial  friend  of  Walter  Graham.  For, 
in  the  course  of  his  remarks,  he  had  been  ver}'  strong 
in  his  patriotism,  denounced  Copperheads  with  great 


210  WALTKR    GRAHAI\r,    STATESMAN. 

severity  and  even  touched  upon  the  subject  to  which 
Tom  had  alluded — the  position  of  those  peaceable,  but 
loyal  people,  who  claimed  to  have  conscientious  scru- 
ples against  war  under  any  consideration. 

It  must  be  said  of  Walter  that  he  was  not  entirel}' 
passive  at  the  vituperation  meant  for  the  first  cla.ss, 
saying,  "All  I  ask  of  them  is  that  they  go  into  the 
rebel  army,  where  their  sympathies  are."  As  for 
High.'s  denunciations  of  the  few  Quakers  and  Menno- 
nites  in  the  conununity,  they  elicited  no  look  or  word 
of  approval  from  either  Walter  or  Tom.  They  re- 
turned to  the  house  to  find  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williamson 
snugly  ensconced  in  rocking  chairs,  waiting  for  Walter. 
Their  greeting  was  warm  and  mutual.  Walter  took 
the  hand  of  the  man,  at  whose  feet  he  had  formed  so 
many  of  his  political  opinions,  with  a  feeling  of  deep 
respect,  not  to  say  veneration,  while  the  old  man,  in 
return,  shook  Walter's  hand  with  a  feeling  not  far 
removed  from  aifection.  He  spoke  of  both  him  and 
Tom  as  "  his  boj'S,"  now  prematurely  grown  into  cap- 
tain and  lieutenant.  Walter  said,  in  the  same  good 
humor,  "  Why,  I  am  surprised  Mr.  Williamson,  to  hear 
you  calling  Tom  and  me  captain  and  lieutenant.  I  pre- 
fer while  I  am  at  home  to  be  simph'  3'our  old  boy  Wal- 
ter. I  supposed  you  would  have  been  the  last  man  to 
pay  compliments  to  cheap  titles." 

"Just  so,  Walter,"  replied  Mr.  Williamson,  "  and  so 
I  should  be.  It  almost  makes  me  sick  to  hear  people 
calling  some  swell  of  a  fellow  colonel  or  major,  because 
he  happened  to  ride  at  the  head  of  some  parade  one 
night,  or  was  appointed  to  some  ornamental  position 
on  a  governor's  staff  in  time  of  peace  ;  but  when  I 
look  upon  bo}-s  like  you  two,  who  left  their  homes  in 


THE    INTERREGNUM.  211 

the  tender  years  of  their  teens,  and  came  home  with 
scars  upon  their  bodies  and  epaulettes  on  their  shoul- 
ders, gained  in  the  most  sanguinary  war  of  modern 
history,  it  almost  tempts  an  old  matter-of-fact  man  Hke 
me  to  address  you  by  title  sometimes,  just  for  the 
humor  of  the  thing  if  nothing  else.  In  fact,  you  boys 
are  both  quite  aware  of  the  fact  that  your  titles  were 
not  .so  cheaply  won  after  all.  I  should  sa}',  upon  re- 
flection, that  they  were  fairly  earned." 

"Well,  well,  never  mind  about  that  now,"  said 
Walter;  "I  want  to  interrogate  you  on  another  sub- 
ject. Indeed,  I  was  just  thinking  about  you.  You 
know  we  always  did  turn  to  you  to  get  the  kinks 
straightened  out  of  us  on  most  questions  ;  perhaps  you 
can  do  it  now. ' ' 

"Perhaps  j'^/^  are  getting  a  little  complimentary  now, 
Walter,"  interposed  Mr.  WilHamson.  "No,  I  think 
not,"  replied  Walter,  "I  have  no  doubt  you  can  give  me 
the  very  information  I  want.  A  discourse  from  you  on 
Quakerism  and  Mennonitism  would  be  highly  enter- 
taining now;  as  I  may  be  somewhat  remotel}'  connected 
with  both,  I  would  like  to  know  what  it  is  the}'  have 
done  in  reference  to  the  war  that  has  .so  incensed  the 
loyal  people." 

"Why?  why  I  don't  know  that  the)^  have  done  any- 
thing to  incense  the  really  loyal  people  ;  who  says  thej^ 
have?"  was  Mr.  Williamson's  reply.  "We  met  a 
young  man  not  so  very  long  ago,  who  professed  to  be 
intensely  loyal,  who  was  rather  disposed  to  be  severe 
on  them,  for  what  he  termed  their  so-called  peace  prin- 
ciples," replied  Walter. 

"Well,"  replied  Mr.  William.son,  rather  inquisitive 
in  his  manner,  "was  this  censorious  young  man  one 


212  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

who  had  given  any  very  great  evidences  of  his 
own  loyalt}^?  Had  he  ever  enlisted,  or  any  of  his 
family?  Of  course,  as  you  well  know,  they  are  two 
religious  sects  who  believe  in  the  principles  of  peace 
or  non-resistance,  and,  of  course,  have  conscientious 
scruples  against  war  in  any  case.  But  I  think  as  far 
as  their  sympathies  and  feelings  are  concerned  in  this 
contest,  they  are  entirely  with  the  North.  In  fact,  it 
is  doubtful  whether  the  Quakers  have  not  been  about 
equally  divided  on  the  question  of  dropping,  for  the 
time  being,  their  peace  principles,  and  resuming  them 
after  this  rebellion  is  suppressed.  Yes,  my  observation 
rather  leads  me  to  think  that  fully  the  half  of  them 
have  broken  over  ;  a  large  number  of  their  young 
people  have  actually  enlisted  in  the  army.  You  see,  as 
an  almost  universal  rule,  they  were  anti-slavery  ;  in 
fact,  I  am  not  sure  but  that  the  Friends  were  the  only 
.sect  that  actually  bore  a  testimony  against  slaver)^  all 
the  time.  The  Mennonites  or  other  non-resistant  Ger- 
man sects  may  have  done  so  ;  I  think  thej^  did,  but 
they  have  been  less  aggressive  in  their  views  ;  have 
lived  rather  more  exclusively  in  settlements  of  their 
own.  The  world  has  known  less  about  them,  and  as  a 
rule,  they  have  not  favored  education  to  the  extent  the 
Quakers  have,  but  I  have  no  doubt,  are  thoroughly  in 
sympathy  with  us  in  this  war,  at  least  .so  far  as  their 
convictions  on  the  question  of  war  will  permit  them. 
They  settled  in  Pennsylvania  in  large  numbers,  imme- 
diately after  Penn,  or  largely  upon  his  invitation. 
Quakerism,  on  the  other  hand,  you  see,  like  Puritan- 
ism, has  a  di-stinct  history.  It  was  the  founder  of  a 
great  commonwealth  and  upon  principles  of  universal 
equity  and  justice  that  have  never  been  excelled  to  this 


THE   INTERREGNUM.  218 

day.  If  ever  you  go  to  Philadelphia  you  will  see  the 
cardinal  principles  of  Pennsylvania's  provisional  gov- 
ernment hanging  on  the  walls  of  old  Independence 
Hall,  almost  side  by  side  with  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence." 

"  Do  I  understand  you,  Mr.  Williamson,  that  Quaker- 
ism has  done  more  for  this  country  than  Puritanism  ?  '' 
asked  Walter. 

"Oh,  it  would  be  useless,  perhaps,  to  draw  a  com- 
parison between  the  two,"  replied  Mr.  Williamson, 
"but  since  you  ask  the  question,  I  might  freely  say, 
yes,  especially,  as  you  well  know,  so  far  as  consistency 
is  concerned,  the  Quakers,  I  think,  can  truly  claim  that 
they  never  returned  persecution  for  persecution,  in 
which  respect  you  know  Puritanism  has  a  bad  record. 
Puritanism  has  been  wonderfully  energetic,  enduring 
and  inventive,  but  it  has  also  sounded  its  own  trumpet 
louder  than  almost  any  other  formative  element  in 
America.  I  think  it  will  be  found  that  the  substance 
of  real  religious  liberty  in  this  country  w^as  in  the  early 
days  found  only  in  the  provinces  of  William  Penn  and 
Roger  Williams  ;  in  fact,  the  present  literary  aristocracy 
of  Boston  are  rather  disposed  to  admit  that  Philadel- 
phia is,  perhaps,  the  second  best  place  in  America  to 
live  in.  But  as  I  have  already  said,  it  is  hardly  worth 
while  to  di.scuss  these  questions  by  comparison.  In 
fact  there  have  been  very  few  men  in  history,  and  still 
fewer  religious  sects,  that  have  been  great  enough 
to  withstand  the  temptation  of  persecuting  persecutors 
when  opportunity  afforded." 

"There  is  one  who  never  did  it,"  exclaimed  Jacob 
Graham,  pointing  with  pride  to  the  faded  picture  of 
William  the  Silent  on  the  wall. 


214  WALTER    GARHAM,    STATEvSMAN. 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Williamson,  "William  the 
Silent  is  one  of  the  really  noble  characters  in  history, 
but  unless  all  signs  fail,  there  is  another  man,"  point- 
ing to  a  cheap  wood-cut  of  Lincoln,  hanging  immedi- 
diately  below  it,  "  who  will  fill  the  same  kind  of  space  in 
history.  Of  course  he  is  not  dead  yet  and  may  make 
some  fatal  error  before  all  is  over,  but  the  indications 
now  are  all  the  other  way  ;  that  the  chief  attribute  of 
his  character  is  magnanimity,  forgiveness  :  indeed,  I 
sometimes  fear  that  his  natural  kindness  of  heart  may 
be  in  the  way  of  a  proper  reconstruction  of  the  States." 

"  But  Abraham  Lincoln  exhibited  firmness  in  a  very 
marked  degree  through  his  course,  when  considered  as 
a  whole,"  replied  Walter. 

"Certainly  he  has,"  rejoined  Mr.  Williamson,  "and 
he  enjoys  to-day,  what  he  hardly  did  even  twelve 
months  ago,  the  entire  confidence  of  his  part}',  most 
especially  as  to  his  honesty.  But  still  I  think  he  might 
be  .said  to  be  rather  slow  in  reaching  his  conclusions, 
for  a  leader,  in  times  of  storm.  Not,  I  think,  from  lack 
of  vision,  but  rather  from  over-cautiousness,  which,  it 
is  true,  may  be  safe  leadership  in  the  end.  It  is  easy 
for  us  to  critici.se,  who  are  not  in  his  position  ;  no  doubt 
he  feels  just  as  he  has  said,  that  he  is  only  the  in.stru- 
ment  in  God's  hands." 

"And  while  he  sticks  close  to  that  feeling  he  will  not 
make  any  very  great  mistake,"  said  Mrs.  Graham. 

"And  Mrs.  Graham  makes  the  last  and  best  speech 
on  this  subject,"  .said  Tom  Swave. 

"  I  will  concede  that  too,"  said  Mr.  Williamson;  "  in 
fact,  it  is  a  little  in  con.sonance  with  the  Quaker  idea  of 
obeying  the  light." 

'  'There  is  another  thought  that  came  to  my  mind,  "said 


THIC    IXTKKKKC.NU.M.  215 

Mrs.  Graham,"  while  you  were  discussing  this  ques- 
tion of  Quakerism  and  peace.  There  is  cousin  Hannah 
Bolton,  who  is  still  a  full-fledged  member  of  the  societ\^ 
in  good  standing,  and  both  her  boys,  Cyrus  and  Wen- 
dell, both  enlisted,  and  both  are  at  home  now,  I  think, 
on  veteran  furlough,  and  next  Wednesday  a  week  is 
quarterly  meeting  day  over  at  old  Pine  Grove.  It  is  a 
pretty  good  drive,  but  why  cannot  3-011  and  I  go  over, 
Walter,  and  see  more  of  these  people,  and  j-ou,  in  fact, 
may  become  better  acquainted  with  your  remote  rela- 
tions. You  boys  scarcely  know  each  other,  and  cousin 
Hannah  and  I  were  quite  intimate  when  we  were 
young. ' ' 

"  I  am  in  for  it,"  replied  Walter. 

"A  good  suggestion,"  exclaimed  Jacob  Graham.  "  I 
think,  though,  mother,  j'ou  are  mistaken  about  both 
the  boys  being  home.  I  have  understood  Cyrus  did 
not  re-enlist  " 

"  No  matter  about  that,"  rejoined  Walter.  "  Mother, 
you  and  I  will  go  over  anyhow. 

"  I  could  tell  you  a  story  about  those  peace  people," 
said  Tom, "  that  you  will  scarcely  believe;  and  to  tell  the 
story  briefl}',  it  is  simply  this  :  There  was  an  old  Dutch 
farmer  lived  in  that  rich  Cumberland  Valley,  in  Penn- 
sylvania, last  summer,  when  both  armies  were  travers- 
ing it,  who  was  out  in  the  field  working  with  his  team 
when  the  rebels  came  along.  They  went  over  to  him, 
and  were  going  to  take  his  team  and  cattle  ;  he  plead 
with  them  not  to  do  it,  saying  that  he  was  a  man  of 
peace,  that  he  disturbed  nobody,  and  that  he  was 
opposed  to  all  war.  The  ofiicer  of  the  squad  said  to  him. 
'Are  you  one  of  those  fellows  %vho  pretend  to  sympa- 
thize with  us,  and  hope  to  get  off  on  those  grounds  ? 


216  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

If  you  do,  come  along  with  us  ;  don't  be  ashamed  to 
go  where  your  sympathies  are.'  The  old  Dutchman 
still  expostulated,  and  said,  '  No,  I  do  not  sympathize 
with  you  ;  my  sympathy  is  with  the  Union,  and  I  am 
down  on  slavery  ;  but  our  people  never  go  to  war.' 
Well,  sir,  do  you  know,  they  finally  went  away  and 
left  him,  the  officer  saying,  '  Oh,  he  is  a  kind  of  harm- 
less d — d  old  fool  ;  let  us  go  on.'  " 

"  That  circumstance  can  be  verified,  can  it?  "  a.sked 
Mr.  Williamson. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  I  know  all  about  it,"  replied  Tom.  "The 
rebel  officer  in  command  of  the  company,  lay  for  three 
days  in  the  same  field-hospital  with  me  at  Gettysburg 
and  told  the  stor}'^  in  the  presence  of  all  of  us,  but  in 
addition  to  that,  I  was  afterwards  in  the  same  hospital 
with  the  nephew  of  the  old  Dutchman  himself,  who 
l)elo;'iged  to  the  Pennsylvania  Reserves,  and  was  also 
wounded  at  Gettysburg,  who  said  he  could  verify  the 
whole  thing,  saying  that  if  '  you  and  I  were  both  able 
to  walk  I  could  take  you  right  to  the  man's  place  in 
twelve  hours.'  " 

"Well,  I  do  say,"  replied  Mr.  Williamson,  "this  is 
one  of  those  curious  incidents  always  occurring,  in  fact, 
stranger  than  fiction  and,  besides,  these  non-resistant 
people  can  well  find  a  great  moral  in  it.  You  see,  while 
the  nephew  was  trying  to  defend  his  native  .soil  with  the 
bayonet  he  was  injured  in  the  attempt,  while  the  old 
man  had  protected  his  team  with  moral  suasion.  So 
this  fact  may  actually  be  used  by  some  future  author 
in  a  romance,  may  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  if  he  has  any  misgivings  about  the  truth 
of  the  whole  story  let  him  come  to  me  and  I  will  dispel 
them,"  replied  Tom. 


THE    INTERREGNUM.  217 

I  would  like  to  go  on  and  tell  you  more  of  this  con- 
versation, but  time  will  not  permit.  How  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Williamson  started  home,  resisting  all  invitations 
to  stay  for  supper,  how  Tom  did  stay  for  supper  and 
never  got  away  from  the  house  until  ten  o'clock,  play- 
ing checkers  with  the  girls  in  a  manner  which  satisfied 
Walter  that  he  had  been  doing  this  before.  How 
changed,  he  thought,  his  mother's  manner  was  toward 
Tom  now  ;  how  he  failed  to  discern,  that  while  she 
treated  him  in  the  most  deferential  manner  and  with 
the  highest  respect  for  what  he  had  suffered,  for  what 
he  had  done,  for  what  she  knew  he  was  capable  of  do- 
ing, and  perhaps,  more  than  all,  from  a  desire  to  atone 
for  any  harsh,  judgment  she  had  passed  upon  him,  she 
still  trembled  a  little  inwardly  when  she  unconsciously 
thought  of  what  consequences  might  follow  from  those 
mutual  glances,  which  would  be  exchanged  between 
him  and  her  daughters  across  that  board,  impressed  as 
she  still  was,  that  with  all  his  powers  and  all  his  gen- 
erosity he  had  a  weakness  in  his  nature,  an  indiffer- 
ence to  success  and  a  love  of  ease  which  might  always 
defeat  his  possibilities,  if  not  work  his  ruin.  Of  course 
Walter  was  too  blind  to  see  anything  of  that.  Even 
Jacob  Graham,  observing  man  as  he  was,  had  thought 
nothing  about  so  trivial  a  matter  as  that.  It  was  left  only 
for  Mrs.  Graham  to  have  any  secret  misgivings  about 
such  foolish  matters.  It  might  be  interesting,  if  ad- 
missible, perhaps,  to  tell  all  about  how  Mart.  Bernard 
came  in  during  the  evening  and  invited  Walter  to  come 
over  to  their  house  whenever  he  felt  like  it,  that  it  was 
at  his  disposal  and  that  they  hoped  to  have  him  wath 
them  as  much  as  possible  during  his  stay  ;  hsw  Walter 
felt  that  the  invitation  was  sincere  and  was  glad  to  ac- 


218  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

cept  it  ;  how  he  devoted  the  early  part  of  the  next  day 
to  calling  on  poor  old  Mrs.  Boyle,  explaining  poor 
Bill's  sudden  and  painless  death,  expressing  his  belief 
that  Jake  would  live  to  get  home  all  right.  How  he 
went  through  the  same  process  at  Long's,  explaining 
to  them  that  they  had  done  the  best  they  could  for  poor 
Bob,  had  marked  the  spot  by  a  niche  in  a  tree  and  that 
he  believed  he  could  find  it  ;  how  he  told  Wils.  that  he 
was  not  called  upon  to  enlist,  considering  his  age  ; 
their  family  had  done  enough  ;  and  that  Bob  was  in 
excellent  health  and  spirits  when  he  left.  The  same 
message  he  delivered  at  Matson's  about  Jack.  With 
the  Miller  family  he  lingered  a  little  longer,  staying  for 
dinner.  Beckie  said,  ' '  I  just  thought  you  would  be  over 
to-day.  Sue  told  me  yesterday  that  3'ou  were  at  home 
and  I  knew  that  you  would  be  over  soon  to  tell  us  about 
Dave."  He  told  them  all  about  Dave,  that  he  had 
been  detailed  recently  in  the  engineer  corps,  that  he 
had  no  doubt  he  would  live  now  to  come  home  all 
right  ;  that  he  had  dissuaded  him  from  re-enlisting  ; 
that  he  thought  the  family,  having  furnished  three 
sons,  all  they  had,  to  the  cause,  had  done  enough  ; 
that  he  felt  sad  when  the  news  came  to  them  down  in 
Tennessee  that  Joe.  and  George  had  both  enlisted, 

Mrs.  Miller  said,  "Yes,  and  how  fortunate  they 
have  all  been,  not  one  of  them  hurt  yet,  and  just 
look  what  battles  they  have  all  been  in." 

Walter  replied,  "  Yes,  but  this  war  is  not  over  yet, 
and  therefore  it  is  well  enough  for  Dave  to  come  home 
while  his  prospect  for  life  is  reasonabl}'  good,  at  the 
end  of  his  term." 

He  got  back  home  by  three  o'clock,  in  time  to  have 
a  half  hours'   talk   with    Professor   Baker,   who  was 


THE   INTERREGNUM.  219 

awaiting  him,  and  then  started  with  Tom  Swave  for 
their  visit  to  Kerr's. 

Perhaps  there  need  be  no  apolog}-  for  telling  how 
glad  they  were  to  be  at  Kerr's,  how  they  were  wel- 
comed, what  an  enjoyable  supper  they  had,  how 
Amelia  seemed  quite  as  benignant  as  ever,  how  she 
drew  Walter  so  gracefully  aside  on  the  lounge  after 
tea,  and  told  him  so  confidingly  that  she  had  a  great 
secret  to  tell  him,  namely-,  that  she  was  to  be  married 
quietly  at  home  to-morrow  week  ;  that  she  and  Mr. 
Cain  had  concluded  to  postpone  it  no  longer,  and  that 
they  would  have  the  wedding  now  while  Henry  was  at 
home  ;  that  they  were  going  to  have  only  a  few  of  their 
dear  old  friends  with  them  on  the  occasion,  of  which 
he,  as  a  matter  of  course,  should  be  one. 

Henry  came  to  them  in  due  time  and  suggested 
to  his  sister  that  it  would  be  nice  to  have  Tom  with 
them  on  the  occasion  also,  saying,  "  True,  he  was  not  in 
the  same  company  with  me,  but  we  three  were  all 
schoolmates  together,  and  Tom  has  been  in  the  army 
all  the  same,  and  done  as  gallant  service  as  any  of  us." 

To  which  Amelia  responded,  ' '  The  suggestion  is  a 
good  one,  I  have  been  thinking  about  it  myself.  I 
guess  you  would  be  pleased  to  have  it  that  way,  would 
you  not,  Walter?  " 

To  which  Walter  replied  that  he  would  be  quite 
pleased  if  it  could  be  so.  He  congratulated  Amelia 
on  her  choice,  and  wished  her  a  great  deal  of  happi- 
ness as  best  he  could,  and  made  arrangements  with 
Henry  to  go  the  next  day  to  Sharwood  to  see  Miss 
Lesher.  That  duty  they  both  felt  could  not  be  post- 
poned a  day  later  than  necessary.  In  the  morning  he 
and  Henrj^  boarded  the  train  at  Shocktown  for  Shar- 


220  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN, 

wood.  They  found  Miss  Lesher  living  comfortably  in 
a  respectable  portion  of  the  city,  in  the  same  house  in 
which  they  had  left  her,  the  day  the  old  Seventy-fifth 
bade  farewell  to  vSharwood. 

She  received  them  both  with  the  avidity  of  a  lover, 
springing  at  Henny'  with  a  "Well,  I  do  say,  cousin 
Henry  Kerr,  is  this  you  ? ' '  and  giving  him  a  kiss  at 
the  same  time,  then  exclaiming,  "And  cousin  Walter, 
too,"  repeating  the  same  liberty  with  him  before 
Walter  fully  realized  what  had  taken  place.  He  col- 
lected himself,  however,  sufficientl)-  to  remember  their 
old  contract  to  call  each  other  cousins,  and  he  replied, 
"Yes,  cousin  Annie,  it  is  I.  We  have  come  a  great 
way  to  let  you  know  that  we  are  alive.  We  are  too 
sorry  that  you  cannot  greet  a  brother  to-day  as  well  as 
cousins. ' ' 

No  sooner  had  this  expression  passed  Walter's  lips 
than  he  was  half  scared  at  the  abruptness  with  which 
he  had  plunged  into  the  delicate  matter  of  her  brother's 
death  ;  nor  was  he  sure  that  he  was  entirely  pleased  at 
this  instantaneous  reminder  of  the  relation  of  cousin, 
somehow  he  felt — not  that  he  cared  especially — but  he 
would  have  been  content  to  let  the  word  become  obso- 
lete between  them.  But  Miss  Lesher  answered  with  a 
sob,  and  wiping  from  her  eyes  the  tears  which  had  in- 
stantly come  to  them  :  "  Oh,  I  know  full  well  how 
truly  you  answer,  and  I  cannot  convey  to  you  how 
thankful  we  are  to  both  of  you  that  you  ever  succeeded 
in  sending  poor  John's  body  home.  I  know  I  should 
be  so  thankful  that  he  is  not  lying  now  on  the  polluted 
soil  of  the  South,  unmarked  and  unknown.  When  I 
think  of  the  many  others  suffering  in  that  way  to-day, 
why  should  I  complain  ?     I  suppose  this  war  could  not 


THE   INTERREGNUM.  221 

be  carried  on  without  hurting  somebody.  Perhaps  ni}^ 
cup  has  been  no  more  bitter  than  hundreds  of  others. 
The  shock  was  very  severe  on  father.  Mother  and  I 
bore  up  ahuost  better  than  he,  besides,  things  have  not 
been  going  quite  right  in  father's  business  lately.  A 
dishonest  partner  has  just  cheated  him  out  of  three 
thousand  dollars,  and  besides,  poor  father  has  a  weak- 
ness which  has  been  gaining  upon  him  lately.  You 
never  know^  what  may  happen.  There  is  one  thing  I 
do  know,  that  if  disaster  should  come,  I  am  able  to 
teach  school ;  even  one  of  the  grammar  schools  here  in 
town.  I  graduated  at  the  high  school  and  went  two 
terms  to  a  normal  school  since.  In  fact,  I  was  ex- 
amined last  week  and  got  a  very  good  certificate,  and 
wh}^  should  I  be  sitting  here  idle  when  everyone  else  is 
doing  something ;  but  how  are  you  both,  anyhow  ? 
How  did  you  leave  all  the  folks  ?  I  did  not  mean  to 
take  up  all  the  time  telling  you  of  my  own  affairs. 
After  dinner  we  will  take  a  walk  out  to  the  cemetery 
to  see  brother  John's  grave."  As  Walter  listened  to 
Miss  Lesher  pouring  forth  what  he  was  sure  must  be 
every  emotion  of  her  mind  within  the  first  ten  minutes 
of  their  arrival,  and  looked  into  her  face  still  animated 
between  sobs  and  tears,  he  w^ondered  how  much  fuller 
her  cup  could  be  filled,  without  producing  a  fatal  over- 
flow. He  thought  he  discerned  also  that  it  would  be 
better  for  them  to  go  to  the  hotel  for  dinner,  therefore 
among  other  things,  he  said  to  her,  "Well  now,  Annie, 
as  Henry  and  I  have  several  errands  to  attend  to,  we 
will  call  after  we  take  our  dinner  at  the  hotel,  when  we 
will  take  the  walk  to  the  cemetery." 

To  this,  however,  she  would  not  listen,  saying,  "  for 
them  not  to  take  dinner  with  her  now"  would  be  simply 


222  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

to  insult  her."  They  j-ielded,  of  course,  returning  at 
the  appointed  time  and  dined  with  the  family.  After 
dinner  they  took  their  walk  to  the  cemetery,  where 
Walter  and  Henry,  both  unconscious  of  what  a  univer- 
sal custom  was  yet  to  come,  each  laid  a  small  bouquet 
upon  Adjutant  John  Lesher's  grave,  "a  slight  token  of 
respect,"  they  said,  ' '  from  two  survivors  of  the  old  Sev- 
enty-fifth." 

During  the  day  Walter  did  not  detect  any  abatement 
in  the  vivacity  of  Miss  Lesher's  manner  or  the  vigor  of 
her  mind.  He  did  notice,  however,  that  her  opinion 
of  the  courage  of  the  Southern  people  had  changed  con- 
siderably, as  she  would  make  such  expressions  as,  "  Do 
3'ou  think  we  ever  can  subdue  them?  "  "Aren't  they 
the  most  stubborn  set  of  men  you  ever  saw  ?  ' '  To 
which  he  would  reply,  "Yes,  they  fight  with  a  valor 
and  courage  worthy  of  a  better  cause.  I  think,  how- 
ever, we  will  conquer  them,  but  I  am  satisfied  that 
there  are  hard  blows  to  be  given  and  received  yet." 

Walter  arrived  home  in  the  evening  to  be  told  that 
Will.  Morton  had  been  there  to  see  him,  and  that  he 
should  be  sure  to  remain  at  home  to-morrow,  as  he 
would  be  back.  The  morrow  came.  He  spent  the 
forenoon  uninterrupted  with  the  folks  at  home.  In  the 
afternoon  both  Messrs.  Wagner  and  Flora  called  on 
him,  both  of  whom  had  preceded  him  home  with  their 
discharges,  bearing  those  honorable  words,  ' '  For  physi- 
cal disabilities  received  in  the  service."  A  little  later 
Will.  Morton  drove  up.  He  seemed  the  same  old  Will., 
kind,  affable,  courteous  to  everyone,  seemingl}^  not  the 
least  bit  proud  or  haught}',  nor  in  any  way  made  the 
family  think  of  his  superior  wealth.  Only  now  and 
then  Walter  thought  he  saw  a  few  slight  traces  on  his 


THE   INTERREGNUM.  223 

countenance  of  the  excesses  at  which  Tom  had  barely 
hinted.  Will,  finally  took  Walter  out  for  a  drive.  He 
told  him  all  about  the  folks  at  home,  that  his  father, 
Aunt  Mary,  Blanch  and  Harry  were  all  well. 

"  How  is  your  cousin  Ida  and  her  cousin,  the  j-oung 
heroine  from  the  vSouth,"  asked  Walter. 

"  They  are  both  well  too,"  replied  Will.  "Cousin 
Ida  is  a  remarkable  girl.  She  has  far  more  than  ordi- 
nary intelligence,  and  education  with  it,  but  she  is  in 
no  way  egotistical,  so  perfectly  modest.  As  for  her 
little  cousin  from  the  South,  she  well  deserves  the  name 
of  heroine.  I  know  of  no  harder  case  than  theirs  dur- 
ing the  war  thus  far,  unless  it  is  that  of  the  Swave 
family.  Her  father,  as  you  know,  after  having  to  flee 
from  the  South,  all  his  propert}-  lost,  went  right  into 
our  army,  was  killed  in  battle  and  left  his  widow  and 
daughter  without  anything.  It  would  .seem  as  though 
this  government  or  a  generous  public  ought  to  see  that 
they  never  suffer  for  bread.  But  they  are  striving  to 
make  a  living  out  of  a  little  store  there  in  the  borough 
and  have  steadily  resisted  all  offers  of  assistance. 
Father,  Aunt  Mary,  Ida,  Blanch  and  myself  have 
all  tried  in  various  ways,  without  wounding  their 
pride,  to  help  them,  but  they  have  steadily  refused, 
saying,  that  while  they  are  able  to  make  their  own 
living  they  prefer  to  do  it.  Sometimes  I  think .  they 
have  accepted  some  little  assitance  from  Blanch,  that 
none  of  the  rest  of  us  knew  about  it.  She  has  a  way 
of  doing  things  that  always  draws  people  to  her  and 
gets  them  to  unload.  But  I  tell  you,  Walt.,  the  young 
girl,  Emma,  is  as  lively  as  a  cricket  and  smart  as  a 
whip.  She  has  a  self  respect  which  you  cannot  help 
admiring.     In  reference  to  the  question  of  being  as- 


224  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

sisted  she  said  to  me,  '  Oh,  it  is  not  that  we  would  be 
too  proud  to  ask  for  help  if  we  were  in  real  distress, 
and  we  appreciate  your  kindness  very  much  Mr.  Mor- 
ton, but  while  we  are  able  to  manage  for  ourselves  we 
may  as  well  do  it.'  " 

"She  was  a  right  pretty  girl  too,  if  I  remember 
rightl)%  was  she  not  ?  "  asked  Walter. 

"You  are  quite  right,  .she  is,"  replied  Will.  "None 
better  looking  in  Mansdale." 

I  cannot  recall  all  the  conversations  that  Walter  and 
Will,  had  during  their  drive  ;  suffice  it  to  say  that 
Will,  invited  Walter  most  cordiall}'  to  come  and  see 
them  during  his  stay;  to  come  often  and  stay  long. 
"Your  friend,  Tom  Swave,  we  have  tried  to  be 
kind  to  since  .he  came  home  disabled.  We  had 
him  over  with  us  three  days  once.  He  comes 
over  occasionally  and  spends  an  evening  with  us. 
He  is  a  good  fellow ;  no  wonder  you  and  he  were 
always  such  close  friends."  "Yes,  he  is  a  good 
fellow,"  replied  Walter,  "and  I  shall  imitate  his  ex- 
ample of  coming  to  see  you  ;  you  need  not  invite  me 
twice,  I  assure  you," 

And  thus  it  was  the  first  ten  days  of  Walter's  inter- 
regnum .sped  away  so  fast,  he  had  almost  lost  count  of 
them  ;  they  had  been  filled  with  such  a  sublime  pres- 
ence of  home,  such  a  genuineness  of  friendship,  that 
made  him  so  happy.  Yes,  even  the  evenings  that  he 
and  the  girls  and  Tom  Swave  had  been  spending  over 
at  Bernard's,  seemed  to  fill  him  with  pleasant  memories 
of  the  past,  and  none  of  the  disappointments.  Maggie 
always  seemed  really  glad  to  see  him  come  in,  her  rich 
blue  eyes  and  graceful  figure  .seemed  almost  to 
enchant  him,  as  of  old.  He  felt  how  thoroughly  he 
could  forgive  her  for   every  little   jilt   she  had  ever 


THE  INTERREGNUM.  225 

given  him,  and  thought,  perhaps,  there  was  some 
truth  in  what  Tom  had  told  him,  "  that  if  Maggie  was 
a  Httle  spoiled,  perhaps  the  boys  were  as  much  to 
blame  as  she. ' ' 

She  could  not  be  held  accountable  for  being  good 
looking,  or  for  the  boys  naturally  "tumbling  to  her," 
as  Tom  expressed  it. 

One  evening  when  they  were  there,  High.  Bowers 
called.  He  could  not  but  notice  that  she  was  a  little 
fond  of  him,  and  he  could  truthfully  say  that  the  feel- 
ing that  arose  in  his  breast  was  not  that  of  envy,  but 
rather  of  sorrow.  Though  he  dismissed  the  thought 
from  his  mind  as  he  walked  home,  saying  to  Tom,  "  I 
must  be  up  in  the  morning  early,  as  mother  and  I  are 
going  twenty  miles  over  into  Hamilton  County  to 
attend  Friends'  quarterly  meeting." 


^^ 


»\>»< 


CHAPTER    XI V. 

PEACE  SEASONED  IVITH  A  LITTLE  WAR. 

AS  Walter  and  his  mother  neared  the  old  Pine  Grove 
-^~^  meeting-house,  the  next  morning,  about  ten 
o'clock,  they  saw  carriages  advancing  in  the  same 
direction,  loaded  with  sedate  looking  old  men,  rosy- 
faced  young  girls  and  matronly  looking  women,  clad 
like  doves,  in  clean,  plain  bonnets. 

Their  horses  all  look  round  and  plump,  though  not 
what  would  be  called  stylish,  which  caused  Mrs. 
Graham  to  ask  Walter  if  "Simon  was  well  groomed 
this  morning,  and  in  fit  condition  generally  to  be  ex- 
hibited at  a  quarterly  meeting,"  to  which  Walter  re- 
plied, "he  was  ;  that  he  had  seen  none  yet  for  which 
he  would  exchange  him."  "But  there  is  another 
feeling  troubles  me  much  more  now  mother.  This  is 
all  wrong  in  me  coming  over  here  to-day  with  these 
clothes  on,  and  yet  I  dare  not  change,  as  I  am  still  in 
the  service'of  the  government.  Had  we  not  better 
turn  off  and  go  to  Boltons  ?  " 

As  they-drove  on  for  a  few  hundred  yards,  both 
seemingly  engro.s.sed  with  the  thought  which  had  not 
occurred  to  either  of  them  up  to  this  time,  the  pro- 
priety of  appearing  among  these  apostles  of  peace  with 
the  ensign  of  war  upon  his  shoulders,  Walter's  reverie 
was  broken  by  his  mother  saying,  "  Well,  there  is  the 
old  meeting-house,  and  there,  I  guess  you  will  not  be 
the  only  one  after  all,  Walter,  in  military  clothes,"  as 


PEACE   SEASONED    WITH    WAR.  227 

she  directed  his  attention  to  another  man  who  had  just 
ridden  into  the  meeting-house  yard  from  the  opposite 
side,  wearing  a  United  States  uniform. 

"I  see,"  said  Walter.  "Well  at  all  events,  I  guess 
it  is  too  late  now  to  retreat.  I  am  steeped  in  blood 
so  far,  that  to  return  would  be  as  tedious  now  as 
going  on. " 

"You  are  steeped  in  peace,  so  far,  it  should  be 
in  this  case,"  replied  his  mother. 

"Give  it  up,  mother,"  exclaimed  Walter.  "You 
scored  the  best  point.  At  all  events,  we  will  not  re- 
treat now.  We  will  see  it  to  the  end,  let  it  be  what  it 
may,"  by  which  time  they  were  actually  driving  into 
the  yard.  Walter  stopped  about  the  middle  of  a  long 
porch  which  ran  the  long  way  of  the  building,  at 
which  place  most  of  the  carriages  halted.  The  build- 
ing was  a  large,  antiquated  looking  old  brick  struc- 
ture, with  this  long  porch  on  one  side  of  it,  from  which 
there  were  two  doors  to  enter  not  more  than  eight 
feet  apart.  After  his  mother  had  alighted  and  he 
turned  to  lead  his  horse  away,  he  observed  there  was 
a  side  entrance,  as  the  Friends  termed  it,  at  each  end 
of  this  parallelogram-shaped  building.  As  he  looked 
around  for  a  place  to  hitch  Simon,  he  observed  further 
that  there  were  two  long  rows  of  sheds  on  two  sides  of 
the  lot,  filled  with  horses  and  carriages.  This  he  had 
never  seen  at  a  church-yard  before.  He  was  informed, 
however,  by  a  gentleman  with  whom  he  conversed 
while  hitching  to  the  fence,  that  this  was  a  part  of  the 
Quaker  religion  to  provide  shelter  for  their  horses  in 
bad  weather.  But,  of  course,  on  large  occasions  like 
quarterly  meeting  days  the  sheds  were  not  adeqiiate 
for  the  accommodation  of  all. 


228  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Walter  was  obliged  to  admit  to  himself  that  this  was 
certainly  a  very  sensible  view  of  religion,  and  of  one's 
duty  as  a  Christian.  He  looked  around  the  yard  to 
survey  the  scene  before  him.  He  saw  that  it  was 
situated  on  the  top  of  a  little  knoll,  commanding  a 
view  of  rich,  cultivated  fields  and  fine  farm  buildings 
from  three  sides.  To  the  fourth  and  northwest,  was  a 
beautiful  grove  of  heavy  oak  and  chestnut  timber.  A 
few  primeval  oaks  still  stood  in  the  meeting-house 
yard,  and  one  giant  chestnut  tree,  which  had  with- 
stood not  only  the  storms  of  a  century,  but  the  clubs 
and  stones  of  the  boys  in  the  neighborhood,  and  their 
fathers  before  them  for  three  generations,  while  not  far 
from  each  end  of  the  building  stood  two  large  tulip 
poplars,  which  Friends  had  planted  simultaneously 
with  the  erection  of  the  building.  He  felt  already  a 
power  in  .silent  worship,  which  he  had  never  under- 
stood before,  He  thought  he  could  easily  imagine 
how  one  could  sit  down  in  quiet  and  alone,  under  one 
of  those  old  oaks  on  a  hot  summer's  day,  and  worship 
"through  nature  up  to  nature's  God."  As  he  walked 
up  through  the  lot  he  saw  a  carriage  drive  in  with  two 
young  girls  in  it  and  a  young  man  in  uniform,  bearing 
the  ensign  of  an  orderly  sergeant.  He  began  to  feel 
less  lonesome  in  his  military  suit,  and  to  think  per- 
haps Mr.  Williamson  was  right  in  saying,  "large  num- 
bers of  their  young  people  have  been  enlisting."  He 
stepped  on  tli^  porch,  was  about  to  follow  a  group  of 
ladies  in  through  the  door,  when  one  middle  aged  one 
touched  him  gently  on  the  shoulder,  saying,  "Perhaps 
thee  is  looking  for  the  other  door.  That  is  the  men's 
side   there';''    and    a    pa.s.sing    gentleman,  somewhat 


PEACE   SEASONED  WITH   WAR.  229 

younger,  said  at  the  same   time,  "Just  come  this  way 
with  me." 

This  was  another  new  development  to  Walter.  He 
had  expected,  of  course,  to  go  in  and  sit,  as  was  his 
custom  at  church,  on  the  same  seat  with  his  mother, 
and  what  made  it  seem  more  strange  to  him  was,  that 
it  should  be  the  custom  with  a  people  who  admitted 
women  to  the  ministry  and,  as  a  rule,  believed  in  the  co- 
education of  the  sexes.  Once  inside,  however,  he  dis- 
covered that  the  seats  were  not  numbered  ;  that  they 
were  all  tenants  in  common,  each  individual  holding 
his  title  for  the  time  being  by  occupancy,  save  a  kind 
of  unwritten  law  to  the  effect  that  the  younger  mem- 
bers would  observe  due  modesty  and  not  unnecessarily 
crowd  themselves  too  far  forward,  or  assume  the 
elevated  seats  which  faced  the  bulk  of  the  audience. 
Even  this  rule  was  politely  ignored  on  quarterly  meet- 
ing days,  the  house  being  crowded  to  overflowing. 
Walter  sat  down  rather  timidly  on  about  six  inches  of 
the  first  seat  inside  of  the  door,  alongside  of  some 
small  boys,  who  "scrouged  up,"  as  they  termed  it,  to 
make  even  that  much  spare  room  for  him.  An  elderly- 
looking  gentleman  arose  from  one  of  the  elevated  seats 
facing  the  audience,  and  said  in  a  very  benignant 
voice,  "There  are  seats  forward  here.  If  friends  will 
come  farther  up  I  think  all  can  be  comfortable."  Two 
gentlemen,  who  had  entered  just  after  Walter,  pro- 
ceeded to  the  front,  but  he  himself  modestly  remained 
in  the  rear,  until  some  of  the  boys  whispered,  "There 
are  seats  up  in  the  gallery." 

Walter  now  observing  an  old  stairway  at  the  end  ot 
the  building,  which  some  younger  men  were  ascend- 
ing, who  had  entered  the  side  door,  he  arose,  stepped 


230  WALTER    GRAHA5. ,    STATESMAN. 

quietly  around  the  rear  passage  and  followed  them  up 
to  the  gallery.  There  he  found  the  seats  almost  as 
nuich  crowded  as  below,  but  he  succeeded  in  getting 
one  at  the  end  of  a  bench  which  ran  half  way  along 
the  space  and  immediately  in  front  of  the  banister, 
looking  down  upon  the  audience  below. 

There  he  sat  twenty  minutes  surveying  the  statue- 
like appearance  of  the  throng  below  him.  No  sound 
broke  the  silence,  except  occasionally  the  whispers  of 
a  few  small  boys  behind  him,  who  had  not  as  yet 
caught  all  the  inspiration  of  silent  worship.  Walter 
liimself  could  hardly  have  answered  truthfully  that  he 
had  devoted  all  that  time  in  communion  with  the  Holy 
Spirit.  But  on  the  other  hand,  he  could  have  truth- 
fully answered,  that  while  to  him  the  scene  was  new, 
and  he  was  acting  rather  the  part  of  an  observer  than 
a  worshiper,  there  was  no  feeling  of  levity  passing 
through  his  mind.  He  wondered  what  High.  Bowers 
would  think  if  he  were  here,  and  saw  these  quiet  people 
worshiping  in  this  unostentatious  waj-.  He  thought 
Tom  Swavc  ought  to  be  here ;  he  would  have 
appreciated  it.  He  compared  in  his  mind  all  he  had 
read  or  understood  about  Quakerism  with  what  he 
now  beheld.  He  thought  he  understood  now  why  an 
old  great-aunt  of  his  mother's  had  driven  all  alone  to 
their  place,  the  spring  the  war  broke  out,  to  admonish 
his  mother  to  be  careful  about  her  boy  enlisting.  He 
even  cast  glances  down  over  the  women's  side  to  see 
how  the  young  Quaker  girls  compared  with  the  more 
worldly  ones  about  Shocktown.  He  read  clearly  the 
minds  of  these  people.  He  thought  of  their  principle 
of  free  .seats  and  a  free  ministry,  that  the  gospel  would 
speak  of  itself  through  the  proper  medium  and  with- 
out compensation  ;  that  their  seats  should  be  equall}' 


PEACE   SEASONED   WITH  WAR.  231 

free  of  charge  to  any  who  wished  to  avail  themselves 
of  them  ;  but  he  wondered  what  peculiar  freak  of  con- 
science it  was  which  led  them  to  think  they  should  be 
entirely  without  cushions  or  comfort.  In  due  time  the 
spirit  began  to  move  the  elders.  This  was  a  very 
beautiful  sentiment,  Walter  thought,  yet  he  could  not 
but  wonder  how  it  was  that  these  Friends  knew  the 
spirit  would  alwa}'S  move  them  exactly  at  the  stated 
times.  Still  he  listened  attentively  to  their  gospel,  the 
cardinal  points  of  which  he  understood  to  be,  ' '  Mind 
the  light,"  or  "  obey  the  Christ  within."  He  dis- 
covered also  that  they  were  good  diplomatists  ;  that 
while  they  generally  admonished  their  young  men  to 
stand  firm  by  their  peace  principles,  thej'  acted  upon  a 
sound  judicial  maxim  to  "  notice  nothing  that  was  not 
judicially  brought  before  them."  Thus  it  was,  that 
while  their  younger  members  had  gone  to  war,  and 
actually  sat  before  them  in  military  garb,  no  official 
complaint  had  really  been  made,  hence  no  necessity 
for  official  action.  In  the  course  of  time  there  came  a 
lull  in  the  preaching,  followed  by  a  silence  of  about  ten 
minutes,  when  an  elderly  looking  Friend  arose  and  said 
that  "if  Friends'  minds  were  easy,  perhaps  they  might 
close  the  partitions  and  proceed  with  the  business  of 
the  meeting.  "I 

Walter  now  saw  two  gentlemen  arise  and  draw  down 
a  temporary  partition  between  the  men  and  women. 
This  was  another  new  revelation  to  him,  but  he  dis- 
covered that  Friends  thought  the  women  and  men  had 
better  hold  their  business  meetings  separatel}'.  He 
listened,  however,  with  great  interest  to  them  going 
through  their  business  meeting.  Their  answers  to 
their    queries   in  reference   to   both  war  and   slavery; 


232  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

their  principles  as  to  the  latter,  ev^en  precluding  the 
use  of  merchandise  produced  by  slave  labor.  One 
Friend  arose  and  spoke  somewhat  earnestly  about  the 
paradoxical  position  they  had  been  placed  in,  arguing, 
"  The  most  of  us  indeed,  who  have  participated  in  the 
affairs  of  civil  government  at  all,  have  voted  to  place 
in  his  present  position  the  present  incumbent  of  the 
Presidential  chair,  and  he  is  now  prosecuting  a  war, 
which  it  is  perfectly  manifest  must  end  in  the  annihila- 
tion of  slaver}-,  one  of  the  things  so  greatly  to  be  de- 
sired ;  and  yet  we  were  to  bear  our  testimou}'  faithfully 
against  war.  I  am  not  sure  indeed  in  this  perplex- 
ing situation  that  we  should  assume  to  sit  in  judgment 
on  others.  It  would  seem  as  though  each  Friend 
should  be  governed  by  his  own  light." 

When  the  meeting  was  over,  Walter  went  out  per- 
fectly satisfied  that  it  was  entirely  safe  for  the  young 
Quakers  to  go  to  war  (that  is,  to  this  war),  without  be- 
ing placed  in  jeopardy  of  disownment.  As  he  walked 
out  among  the  folks  now  gathered  in  groups  convers- 
ing, he  was  greeted  with  many  a  cordial  "How  does 
thee  do  ?  I  guess  thee  is  a  stranger  here  ;  what  is  thy 
name?"  To  which  he  replied  that  his  name  was 
Graham  ;  that  he  was  somewhat  of  a  stranger  here, 
that  he  lived  in  Adams  Count}-,  &c.  He  was  aston- 
ished at  how  many  times  these  Friends,  entirely  strange 
to  him,  replied,  "Oh,  yes,  I  know  ;  thee  is  Jacob  Gra- 
ham's son  ;  thy  mother  was  a  Walter.  Are  the  folks 
all  well  ?  Are  any  of  them  with  thee  ?"  He  could  re- 
call nine  different  invitations  that  these  people  had 
given  to  him  to  bring  his  mother  home  with  them  to 
dinner. 

As  he  declined   each   of  these  politely,  saying  that 


PEACE   SEASONED  WITH  WAR.  233 

he  believed  they  were  going  to  Bolton's  for  dinner,  he 
began  to  think  seriously  that  if  anything  should  hap- 
pen that  Boltons  were  not  there,  he  had  better  accept 
one  of  these  invitations,  as  he  noticed  none  of  them 
were  extended  the  second  time.  His  anxiety  was  in 
due  time  relieved  on  this  point,  as  he  saw  his  mother 
emerge  from  a  group  of  women  at  their  end  of  the 
building,  signal  for  him  to  come  to  her,  and  said, 
"Cousin  Hannah  is  here,  and  all  the  family.  She 
says  the  young  folks  are  in  the  big  carriage  by  them- 
selves ;  that  she  and  her  husband  are  in  the  buggy. 
She  sa3^s  we  are  to  go  right  home  with  them,  of 
course.  They  only  live  about  a  mile  and  a-half  from 
here,  and  that  it  is  not  so  very  far  off  of  our  road 
home.  Bring  the  team  up  here,  and  she  will  let  us 
know  when  they  start.     We  are  to  follow  just  behind." 

Walter  did  as  he  was  directed,  and  ten  minutes  later 
had  his  mother  in  the  buggy  with  him,  and  was  driv- 
ing home  behind  the  Boltons  to  their  place  for  dinner. 

When  they  arrived,  they  alighted  in  front  of  a  sub- 
stantial looking  old  farm  house,  which  stood  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  lane,  parallel  to  a  large 
double-decker  barn,  the  space  between  being  appro- 
priately filled  in  with  wagon  sheds  and  other  "out- 
buildings," as  the  farmers  expressed  it.  He  was 
heartily  received  b}-  the  elder  Boltons,  who  turned  now 
to  give  him  and  his  mother  a  more  formal  introduction 
to  the  young  folks  who  were  just  behind  them  in  the 
carriage,  being  the  same  two  young  girls  and  orderly 
sergeant  that  Walter  had  seen  drive  into  the  church- 
yard. 

' '  Hitch  the  horse  and  come  here  first, ' '  said  Mrs. 
Bolton  to  her  son,  as  they  still  tarried  at  the  yard  gate. 


234  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"Yes,  yes,  I'm  coming,  mother,"  responded  the 
young  sergeant,  as  he  tied  the  knot  and  hastened  to- 
ward them. 

"Now,  Wendell,"  said  Mrs.  Bolton,  "this  is  cousin 
Martha  Graham  of  whom  thee  has  often  heard,  and 
seen  at  least  once  or  twice.  And  this  is  her  son, 
Walter,  who  I  suppo.se  has  been  another  bad  boy  who 
went  to  the  army,  and  is  now  home  like  thyself,  on  a 
short  leave  of  absence. ' ' 

The  young  man  responded  with  a  hearty  grasp  of 
the  hand  to  each,  saying,  "Oh,  yes,  I  remember  Mrs. 
Graham  (or  Cousin  Martha)  quite  well.  I  really  don't 
suppose  I  would  have  known  Walter  though, 
had  I  met  him  ehsewhere.  We  have  practically 
known  nothing  of  each  other.  I  trust,  however,  that 
we  will  be  better  acquainted  hereafter." 

"Just  so,"  responded  Walter;  "it  is  astonishing 
what  an  easy  thing  it  was  for  mother  to  persuade  me 
to  come  over  here  to-day." 

Walter  was  next  presented  to  the  two  young  girls, 
Hannah  and  Alice,  who  both  smiled  and  said,  "Oh. 
yes,  I  guess  you  and  Wendell  will  soon  feel  well  ac- 
quainted." Walter,  instead  of  going  directly  to  the 
hou.se,  took  Simon  by  the  rein,  led  him  towards  the 
barn,  helping  his  remote  kinsman  put  away  the 
horses. 

He  seized  the  opportunity  to  fathom  him,  and  plunge 
into  that  mutual  friendship  which  was  sure  to  follow, 
if  he  found  there  was  "anything  in  him,"  as  he  ex- 
pressed it  to  himself.  And  here  I  may  .say  that  it  is 
useless  to  prolong  the  account  of  this  visit,  as  Walter 
Graham  was  not  very  long  in  discovering  that  Wendell 
Phillips   Bolton   had  ".something   in   him;"  that  he 


PEACE   SEASONED  WITH  WAR.  235 

was  a  young  man  of  far  more  than  ordinarj^  intelli- 
gence, about  eighteen  months  older  than  himself;  had 
secured  a  liberal  academic  education,  and  had  been  one 
and  a-half  terms  at  a  normal  school  when  the  war 
broke  out ;  had  read  considerably  and  digested  well. 
His  regiment  had  been  sent  to  the  far  South  from  the 
first ;  had  been  in  skirmishes  in  the  vicinity  of  Pensa- 
cola,  at  Warsaw  and  on  the  Edisto  River  ;  that  it  had 
lost  heavily  in  the  assault  upon  Fort  Wagner,  and 
their  ranks  been  greatly  reduced  in  the  long  siege  of 
Charleston  and  capture  of  Morris  Island;  that  he  had 
left  his  brother  Cyrus  behind,  who  was  then  convales- 
cing in  the  hospital  from  fever  and  a  slight  wound 
that  he  had  received  in  that  long  and  fruitless  attempt 
to  batter  down  that  citadel  of  treason.  That  he  him- 
self had  been  uninjured  up  to  this  time,  and  as  a  con- 
sequence, had  veteranized,  though  his  brother  probably 
would  not  do  so  now  under  the  circumstances.  That  he 
fully  expected  his  regiment  to  be  transferred  to  the 
Army  of  the  James,  on  the  Potomac,  upon  his  return, 
but  that  like  Walter  himself,  he  had  now  made  up  his 
mind  to  see  it  to  the  end. 

Walter  listened  to  all  this  with  great  interest,  saying 
to  him,  "Of  course  I  understand  3'our  name  furnishes 
the  evidence  of  the  deep  convictions  your  parents  have 
on  the  question  of  slavery  ;  but  how  do  you  reconcile 
all  this  with  your  supposed  peace  principles,  or  do  you 
pretend  to  make  any  reconciliation  about  it  ?  Do  you 
positively  ignore  them  ?" 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Wendell,  "I  don't  ignore  them 
entirely.  It  is  only  a  question  of  degree.  I  believe  in 
the  power  and  efficacy  of  peace  in  the  settlement  of 
most  affairs.     But  it  just  boils  down  in  this  case  to  the 


236  WALTER   GRAHAM,  STATESMAN. 

question,  whether  a  government  that  permits  these 
people  to  enjoy  their  extreme  non-resistant  principles 
without  let  or  hindrance  and  protects  them  in  all  their 
rights  is  not  worth  maintaining,  even  if  it  has  to  be 
fought  for.  That,  to  mj'  mind  is  about  the  size  of  it. 
Peace  may  not  be  the  most  desirable  thing  on  earth 
after  all.  Peace  may  be  merely  another  name  for 
slavery;  whenever  that  is  the  case,  resistance  is  prefer- 
able and,  I  think,  justifiable." 

The  conversation  of  these  two  young  warriors  was 
here  interrupted  by  the  arrival  for  the  second  time 
of  a  special  messenger  from  the  house,  calling  them  to 
dinner.  The  dinner  being  over,  and  two  hours  of 
sociability  in  the  parlor  with  the  whole  family  being 
over,  Walter  and  his  mother  turned  their  faces  once 
more  toward  Shocktown.  Walter  was  thoroughly  con- 
vinced that  his  trip  had  paid  him  ;  that  he  had  seen 
more  of  the  inward  doings  and  practices  of  a  class  of 
people  with  whom  he  was  proud  to  say  he  was  in  some 
degree  connected  than  he  had  ever  understood  before  ; 
a  class  of  people  of  whom  he  was  satisfied  High. 
Bowers  was,  unworthy  ;  a  people  who  did  not  consider 
the  sword  such  a  terrible  thing  after  all,  provided 
liberty  followed  in  its  trail. 


I 


CHAPTER    XV. 

A.XX/ErV  KFSUMKS  II FR  REIGN. 

WALTER  was  even  disposed  to  be  a  little  hilari- 
ous when  his  father  said  to  him  after  they  had 
arrived  home,  "  I  suppose  you  know  all  about  Quaker- 
ism now." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  he  replied,  "just  discovered  that 
one  of  their  essential  principles  is  a  good  dinner." 

"  Why,  what  did  they  have  for  dinner  that  was  so 
remarkable?"  asked  Mary. 

"Well,  I  might  saj^,"  briefly  responded  Walter, 
"they  had  three  chickens,  a  half-bu.shel  of  mashed 
potatoes,  a  peck  of  sweet  ones,  and  other  things  in 
proportion." 

"Oh,  hush,  Walter,"  said  his  mother.  "They 
did  not  have  a  bit  more  than  I  would  have  had,  if  I 
.had  been  expecting  company." 

"Yes,  I  know,  mother,  except  you,  but  you  are 
not  like  any  other  woman  around  here,"  replied 
Walter. 

"I  expect  Walt,  was  so  himgr}-,"  exclaimed  Sue, 
"  that  he  looked  over  the  table  first  to  see  if  there  was 
enough  on  it." 

"  I  don't  suppose  there  was  much  left  when  he  got 
through,  either,"  said  Joe. 

"  Well,  was  not  that  one  of  the  things  we  went 
for?"  replied  Walter,  seeing  that  he  had  to  meet  satire 
with  satire. 


238  WALTKR   GRAHAM,    STATEvSMAN. 

"Well,  then,  you  got  what  you  went  for,"  said  his 
father,  ' '  but  how  about  the  young  man  ?  What  kind 
of  a  person  did  5'ou  find  him  to  be  ?" 

"Oh,  sharp  as  a  steel  trap  and  bright  as  a 
bayonet,"  replied  Walter.  "He  is  coming  up  to  see 
us  next  Thursday,  and  then  I  am  going  to  take  him 
over  with  me  to  Will.  Morton's  part}'.  I  had  full 
authority  to  invite  him  if  I  saw  fit,  and  he  accepted 
like  a  man.  His  Quakerism  did  not  interfere  with 
that  a  particle  more  than  with  his  going  to  war." 

"  You  had  better  not  take  him  over  there  with  you," 
interposed  Sue,  "if  he  is  such  a  prepossessing  young 
man  as  you  describe  him.  He  will  cut  you  and  Tom 
Swave  both  out  of  Blanch.  You  know  you  are  both 
in  love  with  her." 

"  My,  but  you  are  far-seeing.  Sue,"  replied  Walter. 
"And  now  without  pursuing  this  conversation  a  sin- 
gle sentence  further,  I  know  I  will  be  excused  for 
turning  directly  to  the  Morton  party  or  supper  which 
Will,  is  giving  in  honor  of  some  half-dozen  veterans 
around  about  Mansdale,  and  the  Shocktown  boys  who 
were  home  on  furlough." 

The  day.  on  the  evening  of  which  it  was  to  happen, 
brought  with  it  to  Graham's  according  to  promise, 
Wendell  P.  Bolton.  As  he  and  Walter  strolled  out  into 
the  3'ard  after  dinner,  they  were  admiringly  watched 
through  the  window  by  a  mother  and  her  two  daugh- 
ters. The  two  young  men  did  not  look  very  unlike  in 
their  size  and  general  appearance.  Both  stood  erect 
at  five  feet  ten  and  a-half  inches,  with  dark  hair  and 
light  complexion,  except  the  more  than  ordinary  color 
given  to  them  by  a  Southern  sun.  Both  would  have 
tipped  the  beam  probably  within  five  pounds  of  the  same 


ANXIETY    RESUMES    HER    REIGN.  239 

weight,  Walter,  perhaps,  being  a  trifle  the  lighter  of 
the  two,  being  rather  more  of  the  spare  mould.  "Some 
might  have  said  his  countenance  indicated  just  a 
trifle  more  energj-  of  the  two,  and,  perhaps,  the  greater 
power  of  endurance,  and  the  girls  said,  taking  all  to- 
gether he  was  rather  the  best  looking.  While  they  still 
beheld  them  through  the  window,  they  were  joined  by 
Henry  Kerr  and  Tom  Swave,  the  former,  decidedly  of 
the  spare  mould  and  rather  blonde  complexion,  stood 
an  imposing  figure  of  dignit}-  and  character,  which  he 
was  at  his  full  six  feet.  Tom  brought  up  the  rear  an 
inch  shorter  than  either  Walter  or  Wendell,  broad- 
shouldered  and  erect,  however,  notwithstanding  the 
measured  halt  in  his  step,  and  the  slight  tap  of  the. 
accompanying  cane.  Any  person  would  have  pro- 
nounced him  good-looking,  as  they  looked  into  his 
countenance  which  indicated  high  intelligence  and 
great  good  nature.  A  little  easy  going  in  tempera- 
ment it  might  have  shown  hira  to  be,  but  under- 
neath it  were  traces  of  certain  latent  force  which 
none  understood,  perhaps,  as  well  as  Walter  himself. 
At  all  events,  it  would  have  required  no  very  great 
psychologist  to  have  seen  that  it  was  possible,  for 
those  two  to  have  been  friends.  Any  element  the 
one  lacked  could  be  well  supplied  by  the  other,  and 
both  being  possessed  of  brains,  would  have  made  them 
quite  a  formidable  combination.  Tom  had  cast  off  his 
military  suit  for  reasons  already  explained,  and  be- 
came once  more  a  plain  citizen  ;  but  he  was  going  to 
the  party  at  Morton's  that  night,  all  the  same. 

They  there  arranged  that  Tom  should  take  the  girls 
and  Beckie  Miller  over  in  the  big  carriage,  while 
Henry,  Wendell,  Pat.  McKnight  and  Walter,  would  go 


240  WALTKR   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

in  another  conveyance.  For,  as  this  was  a  party  in 
honor  of  the  veterans  and  soldier  boys,  it  was  under- 
stood that  Pat.  was  to  go  along,  a  proposition  to  which 
Will.  Morton  had  readily  consented.  And,  perhaps, 
it  should  be  said  right  here,  that  none  more  thoroughly 
appreciated  the  compliment,  or  was  more  conscious  of 
his  own  importai.ce  that  night  than  was  Pat.  As 
the  men  were  sometimes  sitting  around  in  small  groups 
or  airing  themselves  out  in  the  porch,  he  was  heard  in- 
forming them  of  the  services  and  valor  of  the  old 
Seven tj'-fifth.  . 

"Sure,"  he  said,  "what  signifies  a  few  regiments 
l}ing  down  South  in  front  of  Charleston  or  New  Or- 
leans, with  nothing  to  do  but  a  little  fighting  between 
forts  and  on  vessels.  Even  the  army  of  the  Potomac, 
what  had  it  been  doing  ever  since  the  war  broke  out 
but  getting  licked.  They  were  not  a  l)it  nearer  Rich- 
mond now  than  they  were  three  years  ago,  while  the 
Army  of  the  West  had  been  steadily  advancing."  As 
he  walked  through  the  sitting-room,  the  library  and 
parlor,  and  beheld  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  such 
grand  furniture,  while  costly  dres.sed  ladies  and  ga}^ 
young  girls  moved  trippingly  about,  he  grew  oblivious 
to  all  earthly  cares.  As  he  sat  down  to  the  sumptuous 
supper  in  the  large  dining-room,  he  was  as  indifferent 
to  all  future  dangers  that  lay  in  wait  for  him  as  Tarn 
O'Shanter,  though  not  drunk  on  the  same  kind  of 
beverage  ;  it  could  truthfully  be  said,  "  Kings  may  be 
blessed,  but  Pat.  was  glorious  o'er  all  the  ills  of  life 
victorious." 

As  Blanch  moved  about  so  graciously  that  evening, 
a.ssisting  Aunt  Mary  so  miaffectedly  as  hostess,  pouring 
gn  one  occasion  a  glass  of  water  for  Pat.,  for  which 


ANXIETY   RESUMES   HER   REIGN.  241 

she  received  his  broad  "thank  you,  Miss  Morton," 
with  just  a  slight  tinge  of  her  early  coyness,  but 
courtesied  so  naturally  and  responded  so  kindly,  "  You 
are  welcome,  Mr.  McKnight ;  don't  let  the  other  boys 
underrate  the  services  of  the  old  Seventy-fifth,"  and 
then  passing  on,  smiled  her  suppressed  smile  of  humor 
at  Walter.  He  was  not  sure  but  that  he  too  was 
slightly  intoxicated. 

He  saw  her  glide  on,  stop  for  a  few  moments  and 
talk  with  Tom  Swave.  in  easy  familiarity.  He  saw  her 
whirl  in  the  waltz  with  a  3'oung  fellow  from  New  York, 
with  a  flowing  mustache  and  hair  parted  in  the  middle, 
who  had  succeeded  in  starting  a  report  that  his  father 
was  worth  a  couple  of  millions,"  and  that  he  had  an 
old  aunt  who  was  momentarily  expected  to  die,  from 
whom  he  was  sure  to  inherit  a  half  million  more.  He 
saw  her  glide  like  a  nymph  through  the  evolution  of  the 
lancers  with  Mr.  Herr. 

Maggie  Bernard  dancing  in  the  same  set,  he  was 
sure  now  had  never  transcended  her  in  grace  or  beauty. 
Then  think  of  contrasting  their  two  smiles.  The  one 
still  unable  to  entirely  conceal  her  contempt  and  self- 
consciousness,  the  other  so  conspicuous  for  the  absence 
of  both,  so  kind  in  its  expression,  so  forgetful  of 
self.  As  he  took  her  by  the  hand  to  lead  her  out  him- 
self for  a  plain  quadrille,  he  felt  the  electric  current 
pass  through  him  which  completed  his  intoxication.  ' 
As  he  turned  her  on  the  corner  the  tips  of  his  own 
fingers  touched  a  heavy  diamond  ring  on  hers,  the 
only  jewelry  she  wore,  except  her  neat  gold  watch  and 
chain.  He  would  have  given  two  months  of  his  pay 
to  have  known  whose  present  it  was,  that  of  a  fond 
father,  or  a  zealous  lover.     He   believed  most  likely 


242  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

the  former.  He  felt  certain  that  it  was  not  Tom 
Swave.  It  was  too  high  in  the  figures  for  him.  The 
snatches  of  conversation  he  had  with  her  during  the 
dance  thrilled  him  with  joys  never  felt  before,  es- 
pecially when  she  said,  "  It  is  too  bad,  Mr.  Graham, 
or  Lieutenant  Graham,  I  should  say," — 

"  No,  no,"  interposed  Walter  quickly,  "  I  prefer  my 
simple  name.  You  never  heard  Will,  call  me  either 
Mr.  or  Lieutenant  Graham." 

"No,"  responded  Blanch,  with  a  smile,  "he  calls 
you  Walt. ,  and  so  do  your  sisters.  But  I  was  going  to 
say,  it  is  too  bad  that  I  have  seen  so  little  of  you  since 
you  have  been  home.  I  was  so  sorr}^  that  I  was  away 
when  you  made  us  your  first  visit,  and  the  second  time 
your  call  was  so  .short,  and  even  then  a  previous 
engagement  seemed  to  cut  my  time  still  shorter." 

"You  cannot  be  more  sorry  tha?i  I  was,"  said 
Walter.  "  I  take  it,  however,  there  are  a  great  many 
demands  upon  your  time.  I  expect,  to  have  the 
benefit  of  it,  one  must  engage  an  hour,  as  one  has  to 
with  prosperous  dentists." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  am  neither  so  busy  nor  formal  as  that 
comes  to  j'et,"  replied  Blanch.  "  But  don't  5^ou  think 
that  there  is  another  thing  that  is  too  bad  ;  that  little 
scamp  of  a  brother  of  mine  enlisting  t  The  thought  of 
it  sets  me  almost   frantic,  and    Harry   is   so  young." 

Walter  was  silent  for  a  second,  and  then  at  the  next 
pause  said,  "  Harry  is  not  so  very  little  any  more, 
though  I  suppose  he  is  young  to  enlist.  He  is  not 
eighteen  j'Ct,  is  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  won't  be  eighteen  for  two  months  yet," 
replied  Blanch.  |  "  As  for  his  size,  of  course  I  never 
think   of    him    as    anything    but    our    little    brother, 


ANXIETY    RESUMES    HER    REIGN.  243 

although  he  is  only  nineteen  months  j^ounger  than 
myself. ' ' 

They  danced  on  to  the  end  of  their  set  without 
further  conversation,  except  that  Blanch  remarked  to 
him  once,  "Walter,  I  think  3'our  friend,  Bolton,  is 
very  nice  and  quite  handsome." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  he  is,"  replied  Walter,  "  or 
I  should  not  have  assumed  the  responsibility  of 
bringing  him  here,  I  believe  furthermore  that  he  is 
half  taken  in  with  your  Cousin  Ida." 

"He  will  have  to  be  very  nice  if  he  makes  much 
headway  there,"  replied  Blanch,  smilingly. 

In  another  minute  the  dancers  were  called  to  their 
seats.  Walter  turned  to  Blanch  to  take  her  leave, 
expecting,  of  course,  to  be  politely  courtesied  away, 
when  she  gave  a  slight  motion  of  her  head,  saying, 
"  Come  this  waj^  if  3'ou  are  not  going  to  dance  in  the 
the  next  set ;  I  feel  as  though  I  must  have  some  more 
time  with  you  ;  perhaps  I  may  not  see  you  again,"  as 
she  led  him  to  a  sofa  at  one  end  of  the  room. 

Walter  was  quite  right  in  his  supposition  that 
Blanch's  time  would  be  in  demand,  as  they  were 
barely  seated  when  Tom  Swave,  who  seemed  to  be 
master  of  ceremonies,  came  up  and  said.  "Blanch,  I 
wish  to  introduce  you  to  Mr.  Suavely,  of  Snavelyville, 
a  member  of  my  old  regiment,  the  One  Hundred  and 
Seventeenth.  You  are  not  engaged  for  this  set,  are 
you?" 

"  Why,  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,"  responded 
Blanch,  "but  won't  3'ou  please  excuse  me  this  time, 
Mr.  Suavely  ?  I  wished  to  talk  a  few  minutes  with 
Mr.  Graham.  I  will  dance  with  you  the  next  time,  if 
that  will  do?" 


244  WALTKR   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN, 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Snavely,  "  and  I'll  consider 
myself  favored  at  that. ' ' 

"Why,  Walter,"  said  Blanch,  now  addressing  her- 
self to  him,  "I  will  tell  you  what  I  was  going  to 
say.  Perhaps  it  is  selfish,  and  useless  besides,  but  I 
cannot  help  thinking  about  Harry  night  and  day.  He 
has  an  active,  nervous  temperament,  and  I  think  I 
may  be  allowed  to  say,  is  a  generous  boy;  not  more 
generous  than  Will.,  but  more  ambitious,  and  since  he 
got  his  head  so  full  of  war,  and  enlisting,  father 
concluded  to  let  him  try  it  for  awhile,  thinking  perhaps 
he  could  get  him  to  enlist  in  some  garrison  or  into 
the  commissar)'  department,  or  something  of  that  kind. 
But  then,  Harry;  no,  nothing  of  that  kind  for  him. 
He  was  not  going  to  play  soldiering.  Nothing  would 
do  but  he  must  enlist  in  )'our  old  regiment.  Then  the 
next  thing,  of  course,  was  to  get  him  to  go  in  your 
company.  In  that  we  succeeded,  and  so  he  is  going 
back  with  you  men  as  a  recruit,  as  you  already  know. 
But  what  I  had  on  my  mind  was,  or  what  I  know 
father  half  hoped  for  is  that  he  will  soon  tire  of  it,  and 
that  perhaps  he  might  stand  some  chance  of 
being  detailed  for  some  clerical  service,  or  some 
thing  of  that  kind.  At  all  events,  I  wondered  if  you 
would  not  take  a  little  thought  of  him.  Not  that  you 
can  do  anj'thing  to  screen  him  from  any  duty,  or  that 
I  should  ask  you  to  do  anything,  but  then  I  know  you 
understand  the  feeling.     I  am  so  anxious." 

As  Walter  looked  into  those  half-crossed  eyes,  and 
countenance  so  sincere,  covered  with  the  head  of  dark, 
brown  hair,  that  complexion  so  fair,  with  cheeks 
flushed  just  a  little  from  the  exercise  of  dancing,  and 
the  excitement  of  her  theme,  he  thought  he  had  never 


anxie;ty  resume;s  her  reign.  245 

seen  human  form  assume  such  perfection.  But  he 
grew  instantly  more  self-poised  than  he  could  have  be- 
lieved possible,  and  said,  "  Blanch,  anything  that  is  in 
my  power  to  do  to  bring  Harr}-  back  safe  to  you  and 
to  his  family  shall  be  done,  even  if  it  costs  me  my 
own  life.  To  be  requested  by  you  is  to  be  commanded 
by  a  superior  officer,  to  say  nothing  of  the  friendship  I 
feel  for  Will,  and  Harry  himself.  Anything  that  can 
be  honorably  done.  Of  course,  more  than  that  I  know 
you  would  not  ask." 

Blanch,  half  frightened  at  the  warmth  of  his  reply, 
flushed  a  trifle  and  replied,  "  No,  Walter,  more  than 
that  I  could  not  ask  ;  and  more  than  that  I  would  not 
have,  for  Harry's  own  sake.  Much  as  I  love  him,  I 
would  sooner  see  him  brought  home  dead  than  come 
home  a  deserter,  or  with  any  other  dishonor  upon  him, 
and  perhaps  I  have  done  wrong  in  saying  anything 
about  it.     If  I  have,  please  excuse  me." 

"You  have  done  nothing  wrong,  and  have  nothing 
to  ask  excuse  for,"  replied  Walter;  "there  are  many 
positions  to  which  soldiers  may  be  detailed,  which  are 
no  shirking  of  duty,  or  lowering  of  honor  upon  their 
part.  Harry's  superior  advantages  may  give  him 
special  qualifications  for  something  of  the  kind.  It  is 
just  as  necessary  to  have  clerks,  commissaries,  quarter- 
masters and  engineer  corps  in  the  army  as  anything 
else.  I  will  give  this  matter  great  thought,  and  speak 
to  Major  Kerr  about  it  also  in  strict  confidence." 

"Walter,"  she  said,  "anxious  as  I  am  about  this 
whole  aff"air,  I  half  feel  as  if  I  were  doing  something 
mean  in  invoking  special  favors  for  Harry,  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  is  what  the  whole  war  is,  a  kind  of  terror 
to  those  at  home  as  well  as  those  in  the  field." 


246  WAI.TKR   GRAHAM,  STATESMAN. 

"I  readily  understand  that,"  replied  Walter,  "and 
therefore  you  can  be  guilty  of  no  meanness  in  doing 
what  you  have." 

"Of  course,"  said  Blanch,  "  we  were  always  anxious 
when  Will,  was  away  at  first  and  afterwards  in  the 
commissary  department,  but  it  did  not  seem  the  reality 
then  that  it  does  now;  my,  I  can  just  see  the  look  of 
anxiety  that  would  come  on  the  cheeks  of  both  poor 
Emma  Reed  and  her  mother  every  time  there  was  a 
battle,  and  then  the  final  result  came  as  it  did." 

"Yes,  we  have  long  since  discovered  that  it  is  war 
with  all  its  horrors,  and  I  am  afraid  will  be  for  some 
time  yet,"  replied  Walter.  "There  goes  Maj.  Kerr 
now  through  the  door,"  said  Blanch,  softly,  "  he  looks 
dignified  and  upright." 

"  He  is,"  said  Walter,  "the  exemplification  of  char- 
acter and  honor;  he,  Will.,  Tom  and  I  were  all  school- 
mates one  winter  at  Professor  Baker's." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  replied  Blanch. 

Their  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  Will, 
coming  up,  followed  by  Miss  Emma  Reed,  saying,  "You 
are  a  great  fellow,  Walt.,  I  thought  5^ou  were  going  to 
dance  this  time.  Here  Miss  Reed  declined  an  invita- 
tion, because  she  was  engaged  with  you,  and  you  never 
came  near  her." 

"Well,  well,  I  do  say,"  exclaimed  Walter,  "I —  I — ." 

They  all  laughed  merrily  now  except  Walter,  who 
looked  a  little  confused  as  Miss  Emma  cut  his  further 
utterances  oflF  by  saying,  "  Oh,  you  need  not  apologize 
at  all,  We  all  understand  thoroughly  that  a  young 
gentleman  is  always  excusable  for  becoming  entirely 
absorbed  when  he  is  being  entertained  by  Blanch. ' ' 


ANXIETY    RKSUMES   HER   REIGN.  247 

"My,  I  did  not  know  that  I  was  so —  so — ,"  said 
Blanch,  blushing  modestly. 

"  Well,  no  ;  she  need  not  apologize  either,"  said 
Walter  interrupting  her,  "but  then  I  utterly  did  forget 
Miss  Blanch  said  she  wanted  to  speak  to  me  about — . " 

"That's  just  what  I  thought,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Emma  with  a  hearty  laugh,  again  cutting  him  short 
with  his  explanation,  "  You  had  better  not  attempt  to 
go  on  any"  further:  the  farther  you  go,  the  worse  you 
will  get  entangled." 

Will,  and  Emma  again  both  laughed  modestly,  w^hile 
Cousin  Ida  turned  from  her  position  near  by  and  said, 
"Are  they  getting  the  better  of  you,  Mr.  Graham? 
Shall  I  help  j'ou  out  ? ' ' 

"  I  wish  you  would,  Miss  Ida,"  answered  Walter 
more  sprightly,  recovering,  a  little  from  his  confusion. 

"  I  think  we  will  have  to  tell  your  sisters  on  you," 
said  Miss  Emma. 

"Oh,  for  mercy's  sake,  don't  tell  them,"  exclaimed 
Walter;   "  that  would  only  make  it  worse." 

"Why,  do  they  twit  you  a  little  at  home  sometimes 
about  things?  "  said  Ida. 

Walter  shook  his  head  a  little,  and  Blanch  said  to 
Mary,  who  was  passing  by,  "  How  is  it  Miss  Mary  ?  Do 
5'ou  tease  Walter  a  little  sometimes  about  his  absent- 
mindedness  at  home  ?  " 

Mar}^  answered  with  great  sincerity,  "Oh,  Sue 
plagues  him  a  good  bit  about  many  things.  I  do  not 
know  that  he  is  particularly  absent-minded  though." 

Again  the  little  circle  laughed,  and  Emma  said, 
"That  makes  it  all  the  worse.  We  naturally  infer 
from  that,  that  it  takes  some  extraordinary  event  to 
make  you  forget  yourself. ' ' 


248  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

This  remark  struck  the  nail  closer  to  the  head  than 
Walter  had  thought  of,  and  he  actually  began  to  fear 
that  it  would  5'et  be  blurted  out  that  Sue  had  charged 
him  directly  with  being  in  love  with  Blanch.  But  as 
everything  is  made  for  some  purpose,  he  was  relieved 
of  that  fear  by  "young  flowing  mu.stache"  advancing 
to  the  circle  at  this  crisis  and  saying,  "  Ha!  Ha!  this 
seems  to  be  a  very  comfortable  circle  here." 

' '  We  all  seem  to  be  verj^  comfortable,  Mr.  Shaw. 
Will  3'ou  draw  up  a  chair  and  join  us?"  said  Miss 
Ida,  politely. 

"Ha!  thank  you.  Miss  Ida,  "said  Mr.  Shaw.  "I 
see  you  have  our  young  military  friend  pretty  well  ab- 
sorbed. Not  much  wonder,  indeed,  with  such  a  host 
of  fine  young  ladies  around  him." 

As  Mr.  Shaw  joined  the  circle,  stroking  the  two  sides 
of  his  flowing  mustache  and  his  evenly  divided  hair, 
talking  most  of  the  time  of  himself,  generally  omitting 
his  r's,  alluding  occasionally  to  his  prospective  large 
business  fortunes  in  New  York,  occasionally  disclosing 
his  views  of  the  party,  that  of  course  it  was  a  generous 
act  or  kind  condescension  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Morton  to 
give  the  soldier  boys  this  fine  entertainment  and  grand 
feed  before  returning  to  the  front,  and  addressing  fully 
half  of  his  conversation  to  Blanch.  Walter  wondered 
if  he  was  not  pretty  well  absorbed  also,  and  he  could 
not  resist  the  thought  that  he  would  like  to  have  had 
him  in  the  swamps  and  trenches  down  before  Vicks- 
burg  for  a  few  days.  He  felt  sure  he  would  not  have 
been  very  long  absorbed  in  that  case. 

But  the  hour  came  when  they  left  Morton's  for  home. 
Blanch  had  favored  the  company  with  a  few  pieces  on 
the  organ  before  they  separated.     Walter  watched  her 


ANXIETY   RESUMES   HER   REIGN.  249 

admiringly,  while  he  heard  the  voices  of  his  two  sisters 
mingled  with  hers  as  they  sang,  ' '  Rally  round  the  flag, 
boys,"  and  "All  quiet  along  the  Potomac  to-night." 
At  his  special  request  they  sang  the  song  that  had 
captivated  him  so  much  three  years  before,  about  ' '  The 
Stars  and  the  dewdrops  are  waiting  for  thee."  He 
told  her,  as  he  bade  her  good-by,  that  he  would  keep 
her  advised  as  to  Harry's  welfare  in  the  army,  to  which 
she  replied,  "I  wish  you  would;  I  will  take  it  ever 
so  kindly."  He  thought,  "  what  a  great  acquisition  I 
have  obtained.  Her  request  to  do  something  for  her  ; 
and  consent  that  I  may  write  to  her."  As  he  rode,  he 
looked  up  through  the  dewdrops  unto  the  stars,  and 
wondered  if  in  the  face  of  all  his  eyes  had  seen  that 
night,  and  what  his  judgmnt  still  told  him,  they  dared 
to  give  him  hope.  He  was  now  arriving  at  a  man's 
estate  ;  would  be  twenty-one  in  seven  days  ;  his  aflfec- 
tions  were  not  fickle  now.  He  could  pass  over  the 
different  pictures  that  had  rested  on  his  soul  at  differ- 
ent times,  as  follows  :  for  Maggie  Bernard  he  had  sor- 
row; for  Amelia  Kerr,  now  Mrs.  Cain,  true  friendship  ; 
for  Emma  Reed,  honor  ;  for  Ida  Reed,  high  admiration  ; 
for  Annie  L,esher,  deep  pit}-;  but  for  Blanch  Morton, 
love.  Yes,  it  was  her  picture  that  still  crossed  his 
vision  at  Donaldson,  at  Shiloh,  at  Chaplain  Hill,  at 
Vicksburg,  at  Missionary  Ridge,  and  in  all  other 
moments  of  peril,  when  all  the  others  had  vanished. 
Did  the  stars  above  give  him  any  hope  ?  That  was  the 
onl}^  question  now.  Would  they,  "  in  their  courses, 
fight  for  him,"  or  were  they  against  him  ? 

Five  mornings  later  he  arose  from  his  bed,  a  little 
later  than  usual,  came  down  stairs,  sat  for  a  moment 
on  the  chair,  reached  over  for  his  big  army  boots,  and 


250  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

rested  again,  drew  one  of  them  on,  and  then  made 
another  pause.  His  mother  came  to  him,  touched  him 
on  the  shoulder  and  said,  "  Do  you  feel  depressed  this 
morning,  Walter  ?  Do  j^ou  feel  any  lingering  regrets  for 
re-enlisting  ?  And  was  there  no  way  for  you  to  have 
honorably  avoided  it  ?  " 

Walter  drew  on  his  other  boot,  looked  up,  and  said, 
' '  No  mother,  I  have  not  for  myself  the  slightest  regrets 
in  any  way  for  the  course  I  have  taken.  Of  course,  I 
could  honorably  have  avoided  it,  for  all  the  other  boys 
who  have  not  re-enlisted  are  honorable. '  * 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  answer  as  you  have, Walter, 
I  was  afraid  you  were  a  little  cast  down.  I  would  not 
have  had  you  leave  this  morning  that  way.  If  it  is 
the  rest  of  us  that  you  are  thinking  about,  we  will  try 
to  bear  up." 

"Ah,  mother,  you  are  a  heroine,"  said  Walter. 

"Walter,"  said  his  mother,  "answer  me  one  more 
question.  Have  you  any  premonitions,  any  forebod- 
ings whatever,  of  any  kind,  that  something  might  hap- 
pen to  you  this  time  ?  " 

"  Mother,  I  have  no  premonitions  about  anything," 
replied  Walter.  "Three  years  ago,  you  know,  I  left 
home  very  wise  ;  to-day  I  simpl}^  feel  that  I  know 
nothing,  except  that  I  am  in  the  hands  of  destiny,  and 
to  that  destiny  I  must  simply  bow." 

He  walked  out  for  a  few  minutes,  then  returned  to 
breakfast  with  the  {■axmXy.  They  almost  ate  in  silence. 
One  hour  later  he  started  with  his  father  and  Joe  to  the 
depot,  his  mother  not  accompanying  him  this  time. 
She,  with  the  girls,  had  bade  her  last  good-by  at  the 
front  door,  pressing  a  kiss  first  upon  his  lips,  and  then 


ANXIETY   RESUMES   HER   REIGN.  251 

upon  the  little  scar  above  the  brow,  uttering  to  herself 
the  same  prayer  that  she  had  done  before. 

They  arrived  at  the  depot  to  find  Henry  Kerr  and 
Pat.  already  there.  Tom  Swave  came  up  and  bade 
them  an  affectionate  farewell.  "  Walt.,  I  feel  as  though 
I  am  not  doing  my  full  duty.  I  have  a  mind  to  try 
and  get  back  to  the  army  myself." 

"What  to  do?"  asked  Walter. 

"Why,  I  believe  I  could  go  as  quartermaster  or 
something  of  that  kind,"  was  the  reply. 

"Are  5'ou  going  craz}-.'"  asked  Walter,  looking  at 
him  earnestly. 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of,"  replied  Tom. 

"  Well,  just  abandon  that  idea,"  rejoined  Walter. 
"  But  I  will  tell  you  what  I  do  want  you  to  do  for  me. 
Keep  an  e^^e  on  Joe." 

"What!  you  don't  mean  your  Joe,  do  you?  Why, 
he  is  not  fifteen,  is  he  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  he  is  turned  of  fifteen  now,  and  his  head  is 
full  of  all  sorts  of  notions.  You  know  there  are  bugler 
boys  and  others  as  3-oung  as  he  in  the  army.  I  could 
not  bear  to  intimate  my  suspicions  to  mother,  but  keep 
an  eye  on  him,  won't  you,  please  ?" 

Tom  answered  him  sympathetically,  saying  that  he 
would  tr}^  to  prevent  the  calamity  to  his  mother,  at 
which  he  had  hinted.  The  train  pulled  up;  the  three 
men  got  on  it.  Walter  stood  on  the  rear  platform  of 
the  rear  car  as  it  moved  away,  and  saw  once  more  the 
land  of  his  childhood  fade  from  his  sight.  At  Mans- 
dale,  Harry  Morton  was  at  the  depot,  dressed  in  his 
new  uniform,  waiting  to  join  them.  Blanch  and  Will, 
stood  by  his  side  as  the  train  moved  up,  and  bade  him 
an  affectionate  farewell  as  it  moved  SLway.     Walter  saw 


252  WAIvTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

the  anxiety  on  Blanch's  face,  and  watched  it  until  it, 
too,  was  lost  to  his  vision. 

The  four  soldiers  went  inside  and  sat  down  not  far 
apart,  Henry  Kerr  remarking,  ' '  Once  more  we  bid 
adieu  to  home  and  friends.  And  it  is  a  doubtful  ques- 
tion who  is  to  bear  the  greater  suffering,  we  or  the)^  ? 
Notwithstanding,  I  cannot  shake  off  a  superstitious 
feeling  that  some  one  of  us  four  will  never  (see  them 
again." 

"  I  believe  the  greater  suffering  will  be  at  home," 
replied  Walter.  "Even  father  seemed  dejected  this 
morning,  and  mother's  face  wore  an  expression  that  I 
never  want  to  see  there  again.  God  knows  whose 
turn  is  to  come  next.  I  only  know  the  interregnum  is 
over,  and  that  anxiety  has  resumed  her  reign." 


m^ 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

A  LITTLE  GLOOM  AT  MANSDALE. 

"  Hot  burns  the  fire 
Where  wrongs  expire." — Whittier. 

AS  the  train  rolled  on  bearing  these  four  men  to  the 
-^"^  front,  Walter  bought  a  morning  paper  and  began 
to  look  over  the  head-lines,  but  he  soon  laid  it  down 
and  let  his  mind  run  back  as  was  its  desire  to  the 
scenes  of  home  and  thoughts  of  Blanch. 

He  looked  across  into  Harry's  face,  full  of  hope  and 
ambition,  and  dreams  of  the  congratulations  that 
would  be  showered  upon  him  when  he  returned  home 
an  honored  veteran  of  the  war.  He  began  to  think 
seriously  of  what  plan  he  could  study  out  that  might 
save  him  from  danger  and  bring  him  home,  unharmed, 
to  the  sister  for  whom  he  had  promised  to  do  all  that 
was  honorable  to  attain  such  a  result. 

As  Walter  turned  this  subject  over  in  his  mind,  he 
was  confronted  more  seriously  with  the  thought  than 
he  had  been  before,  as  to  how  little  there  really  was 
that  he  could  do  for  him.  Screen  a  private  in  the 
ranks  in  time  of  battle!  Ask  favors  for  a  man  who  had 
just  gone  out  as  a  recruit ! 

It  seemed  to  him  now  the  most  chimerical  of 
thoughts  ;  yet,  with  what  avidity  he  rushed  into  the 
obligation  with  Blanch  to  try  to  do  something  of  the 
sort. 

Well,  try,  he  thought  to  himself,  is  a  safe  platform 


254  WALTKR   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

to  stand  on;  we  can  always  try,  and  hope  is  eternal;  so 
he  would  always  keep  the  matter  in  his  mind,  watch- 
ing for  anything  that  was  honorable,  and  hope  that 
perhaps  they  would  not  be  plunged  into  any  very 
severe  engagements  too  very  soon. 

Thus,  dismissing  for  the  time  the  matter  from  his 
mind,  he  arose,  walked  back  to  the  platform  of  the 
rear  car  to  enjoy  the  scenery  and  think  about  the  new 
scenes  the}'  were  to  behold  on  their  journey.  Their 
regiment,  now  transferred  to  the  army  of  the  Potomac, 
would  take  them  somewhat  off  the  course  they  had 
pursued  before,  enough  so  to  permit  of  their  going 
through  Philadelphia. 

Walter  began  to  think  of  the  old  historic  scenes  he 
should  behold  ;  of  how  to  best  employ  his  time  in  the 
short  interval  they  might  have  there  ;  to  go  and  see 
old  Independence  Hall  at  least,  as  Mr.  Williamson  had 
suggested,  would  be  the  one  thing  he  would  do  if 
nothing  else. 

He  arrived  in  Philadelphia  in  due  time,  and  began 
to  walk  through  the  broad  thoroughfares  of  that  most 
beautiful  and  American  of  American  cities.  No  ele- 
vated railroad  then,  as  now, — all  unobserved  by  the 
populace  below, — poured  its  interminable  flood  of  pas- 
sengers and  traffic  into  the  very  heart  of  the  city. 

Even  the  great  Pennsjdvania  Central  was  still  drag- 
ging its  long  trains  of  freight  and  passengers  across 
the  Schuylkill  and  down  Market  street  with  horses  and 
mules ;  but,  notwithstanding  this  slight  annoyance, 
Walter  could  then  stand  in  front  of  the  present  great 
Broad  street  depot  and  look  for  miles  up  and  down  that 
most  beautiful  thoroughfare  on  earth,  and  watch  the 
great  moving  masses  of  humanity  walking  across  the 


A  LiTTLEi  GivOOM   AT  MANSDAI^e;.  255 

large  open  square,  which  bears  the  name  of  Penn, 
while  no  gigantic  pile  of  marble  obstructed  the  view  or 
destro5-ed  the  grandeur  of  the  scene.  That  monumental 
act  of  folly,  placed  there  by  the  cupidity  of  man,  and 
at  a  cost  to  the  community  which  seemed  more  like 
spoliation  than  taxation,  to  which  tax-payers  however 
are  expected  to  give  cheerful  consent,  for  the  reason 
that  it  is  to  furnish  justice  more  imposing  quarters 
from  which  to  issue  forth  her  grave  decrees  by  wise 
judges,  whose  weight}^  words  at  times  can  not  be  heard 
by  half  the  attending  lawyers  on  account  of  the  noise 
and  clatter  of  commercial  transactions  from  without. 

Of  course,  the  dear  people  will  make  no  complaint 
about  this,  even  though  their  school  marms  go  half  paid 
and  thousands  of  their  children  go  unadmitted  to  the 
public  schools  for  want  of  room. 

But  Walter  passed  over  this  space,  on  to  Chestnut 
street,  and  down  her  crowded  sidewalks  in  search  of 
old  Independence  Hall. 

As  he  beheld  with  admiration  and  astonishment  the 
lofty  edifices  and  magnificent  fronts  that  raised  them- 
selves on  the  one  and  the  other  side,-— as  he  walked  on, 
he  was  a  little  disappointed  when  he  was  told  :  "  Here 
is  Independence  Hall  !  "  The  advances  of  civilization 
had  overshadowed  it  in  grandeur  more  than  he  had 
expected  to  see ;  but  he  soon  recovered  from  this 
shock  and  became  fully  impressed  with  the  sacred 
memories  that  clustered  around  it.  The  city  of  Phila- 
delphia had  not  then,  as  it  has  since — with  such  gener- 
osity, patriotism  and  good  taste — made  it  a  gift  to  the 
whole  countr}^,  on  account  of  the  historic  events  which 
have  made  it  memorable  to  the  whole  nation,  and  a 
priceless  heritage  to  mankind.     But  Walter  felt,  even 


256  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

then,  that  the  ground  on  which  he  trod  belonged  in 
part  to  himself;  not  by  virtue  of  any  particular  State 
from  whence  he  hailed,  but  by  reason  of  his  being  an 
American  citizen. 

He  stepped  across  the  corridor  and  read  engraved  on 
the  walls  the  words  : 

' '  Any  government  is  free  to  the  people  under  it 
whatever  be  the  form,  where  the  laws  rule,  and  the 
people  are  a  party  to  those  laws ;  and  more  than  this 
is  tyrann\',  oligarchy  and  confusion.  Peun's  frame  of 
government." 

He  read  them  again,  and  said  inwardly — "Yes! 
there  is  the  sentiment ;  just  as  Mr.  Williamson  told 
me  I  would  find  it,  and  not  very  different  from  the 
thought  contained  in  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
itself;  that  governments  derive  their  just  powers  from 
the  consent  of  the  governed."  But  his  eyes  followed 
farther  down  the  lines,  only  to  catch  those  other  words 
so  familiar  to  his  ear.  ' '  We  hold  these  truths  to  be 
self-evident :  that  all  men  are  created  equal ;.  that  they 
are  endowed  by  their  Creator  with  certain  inalienable 
rights,  among  which  are  life,  liberty  and  the  pursuit 
of  happiness.     Declaration  of  Independence. ' ' 

It  was  not  necessary  for  Walter's  information  to  tell 
him  from  what  these  words  were  quoted  ;  it  was  all 
sufficient  for  him  to  reflect  that  he  was  standing  now 
within  the  sacred  walls  from  which  they  had  been  pro- 
mulgated. 

As  his  eye  led  on  a  little  farther  down  the  column, 
he  read  the  words,  "Your  union  ought  to  be  consid- 
"ered  as  a  main  prop  of  your  liberty.  Washington's 
Farewell  Address. ' ' 

"  There  is  the  idea,"  thought  Walter  ;   "  and  yet  the 


I 


A   LITTI.E    GLOOM    AT   MANSDALE.  257 

state  that  gave  birth  to  Washington  is  straining  her 
loins  to  the  ver}-  utmost  to  rend  and  destroy  that 
union,  while  I,  and  a  million  more  of  us  have  gone 
forth  to  uphold  that  union,  and,  if  necessary  for  its 
preservation,  '  Give  the  last  full  measure  of  our  devo- 
tion.' May  the  spirit  of  Washington  look  down  upon 
us  at  this  moment,  and  say  which  is  right!" 

He  stepped  across  the  hall  to  read  on  its  other  wall 
these  words  : 

"The  Union  of  the  American  Colonies,  forged  by 
Benjamin  Franklin  at  the  Congress  in  Albany  1754, 
was  fostered  by  Massachusetts  in  1765;  developed  at 
Carpenter's  Hall  in  1774  in  this  building  ;  effected  in 
1776,  and  made  more  perfect  September  17th,  1787." 

"Made  more  perfect,"  thought  Walter,  "in  1787. 
Yes  !  it  will  be  made  still  more  perfect  when  this 
rebellion  is  suppressed  with  an  annihilation  of  the 
institution  which  has  been  the  only  element  that  has 
ever  threatened  her  existence  ;  and  which  has  made 
our  liberties  a  burlesque,  even  to  the  monarchies  ot 
the  old  world."  But  he  was  anxious  to  see  the  par- 
ticular room  in  which  the  Congress  sat  when  they 
adopted  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 

As  he  stepped  into  the  room  at  the  end  of  the  hall, 
with  large  portraits  of  Revolutionary  patriots  hanging 
around  it,  and  an  iron  railing  running  about  six  feet 
from  the  walls,  behind  which  were  sitting  some  old- 
fashioned,  high-backed  chairs,  he  asked  the  guide, 
"Where  is  the  hall,  the  particular  room  I  mean,  in 
which  the  convention  sat  when  they  adopted  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  ?     Is  it  upstairs  ?" 

"  No  !  no  !"  said  the  guide,  with  a  look  of  astonish- 


258  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

ment  and  wisdom  ;  "  why  this  is  the  room  ;  3^011  are  in 
it  now." 

"This  small  room  here!"  replied  Walter,  with 
surprise,  parti}'  real  and  partly  affected,  to  counteract 
the  astonishment  of  his  informant. 

"Yes  !  this  room  here,"  again  uttered  the  official  gen- 
tleman. ' '  This  is  not  such  a  very  little  room,  when  you 
look  at  it  righdy.  This  railing  around  it  makes  it 
look  a  little  .smaller  than  it  really  is  ;  but  you  measure 
it  once,  or  step  it  as  I  have  done,  and  you  will  find  it 
not  so  very  small." 

"I  see,"  said  Walter,  "the  room  is  not  so  very 
small  in  the  abstract,  but  then,  we  expected  a  room 
from  which  such  a  large  document  emanated  to  have 
been  particularly  large." 

"Well,  the  document  wasn't  so  very  large  either," 
replied  the  guide,  a  little  confused. 

"  Pretty  clever  size  though,"  replied  Walter,  "when 
all  the  monarchies  of  Europe  could  hear  its  rumbling. 
Let  me  .see  ;  'John  Hancock  signed  his  name  so  large 
that  George  III  could  read  it  across  the  Atlantic' 
Who  was  it  said  that?  It  was  Wendell  Phillips,  was 
it  not?" 

"Yes;  I  believe  it  was,"  replied  the  guide,  rather 
bewildered. 

' '  And  those  old  chairs,  over  j-onder,  what  are 
they?"  continued  Walter.  "Are  they  the  chairs 
the  delegates  actually  sat  upon  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  guide,  with  more  assurance, 
"those  are  the  actual  chairs.  There  is  the  one  on 
tliat  little  platform  that  John  Hancock  actuall}'  sat  in 
when  he  presided  over  the  convention." 

"See,"   he   said,  stepping   up   to  one   nearby   the 


A  i,itti,e;  gIvOom  at  mansdai^e.  259 

platform  and  raising  up  a  piece  of  the  leather  that  was 
torn  in  the  seat,  ' '  see  what  good  leather  they  made  in 
those  days  ;  don't  make  any  such  leather  now." 

"No,  indeed!  no  indeed!"  said  Walter,  stooping 
under  the  railing  to  examine  it,  and  making  a  quick 
step  sidewise  and  squatting  down  in  the  old  Han- 
cock chair. 

"  So  this  is  the  chair  in  which  John  Hancock  actually 
sat  when  he  signed  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 
I  wonder  if  it  will  desecrate  it  for  me  to  occupy  it?" 

The  official  gentleman,  now  a  little  more  discon- 
certed than  ever,  said,  laying  his  hand  on  Walter's 
shoulder : 

"  Its  against  the  rules  for  visitors  to  come  inside  the 
railing  ;  I  will  have  to  ask  you  to  step  out  ;  you  see, 
if  I  let  5^ou  in  I  would  have  to  let  all  in  ;  m}^  orders  are 
pretty  strict,  you  see." 

"Oh!  beg  your  pardon;  beg  your  pardon,"  said 
Walter,  as  he  stepped  down  and  out.  "You  see,  I 
was  so  anxious  to  drink  from  the  fountain  of  Liberty  that 
I  actually  forgot  mj-self.  Let  me  see,  where  did  old 
John  Adams  stand  when  he  declared  'that  if  his  coun- 
try required  the  poor  offering  of  his  life,  the  victim 
should  be  ready  at  the  appointed  hour  of  sacrifice, 
come  when  that  hour  may.'  " 

The  guide,  now  looking  at  Walter  with  some  doubt 
as  to  whether  he  was  entirely  sane,  stammered  out : 

"I   believe   he  stood   right   there  in   the    middle." 

"About  here,  you  think,"  said  Walter.  "Well, 
then,  I  will  sanctify  the  soles  of  my  feet  for  an  instant, 
while  there  (pointing  to  the  portrait  on  the  wall),  the 
shadow  of  wise  old  Ben.  Franklin  looks  down  upon  my 
souldiWdi  blesses  it.  And  Jefferson's  all-inspiring  genius 
teaches  me  how  to  say,  '  All  men  are  created  equal.'  " 


2G()  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Walter  now  looking  at  the  time,  saw  that  it  admon- 
ished him  to  cut  his  visit  short  ;  he  bowed  himself  out 
of  the  room,  leaving  the  official  gentleman  fully  con- 
vinced that  "  That  fellow  is  a  little  off." 

He  took  a  brief  peep  into  the  other  rooms  and 
a  hurried  walk  across  the  open  square  to  the  rear,  say- 
ing to  himself,  "May  modern  architecture  never  lay 
her  hands  upon  these  historic  walls ;  that  the 
lesson  taught  b}^  these  solemn  scenes  may  strengthen 
one's  convictions  that  patriotism  is  not  after  all  a  mere 
hollow  pageant  but  a  living  reality,  and  that  I,  too,  may 
be  ready  to  make  the  poor  offering  of  my  life  at  the 
appointed  hour,  for  my  countr}-  if  required." 

Thus,  soliloquizing,  he  wended  his  way  to  the  old 
Washington  depot,  and  eight  hours  later  was  landed 
safely  in  the  capital  of  the  nation.  As  he  and  his 
three  companions  alighted  from  the  car  and  passed 
through  the  depot,  out  into  the  street,  they  saw  the 
dome  of  the  Capitol  towering  conspicuously  above  the 
surrounding  buildings.  As  none  of  them  had  never 
been  in  Washington  before,  it  served  them  as  a  kind 
of  objective  point  to  steer  for.  Accordingly,  they 
waved  aside  the  obliging  cabman  and  hackman  with 
their  importunate  yells,  "This  way  for  Willard's  !" 
"Will  you  have  a  carriage,  sir?"  and  walked  on  to 
the  middle  of  the  street  and  hailed  the  conductor  of 
a  street  car,  that  was  in  waiting,  when  they  were 
answered,  "Yes,  this  car  takes  you  to  the  Capitol. 
Jump  on." 

Notwithstanding  this  invitation  to  "jump  on,"  the 
men  were  not  quite  certain  as  to  where  they  were  to 
jump  ;  the  top  of  the  car  being  a  little  too  high  to 
make  it  at  one  boui.d  and  the   backs   of  the   horses 


A   LITTL,!?   GI.OOM    AT   MANSDAI.K.  261 

presumably  not  being  meant  to  be  jumped  upon  on 
this  occasion,  they  were  convinced  upon  a  casual 
observation  that  all  other  space  that  could  be  made 
available  about  that  car,  or  its  equipments,  would  be 
reached  rather  by  a  squeezing  than  a  jumping  process; 
and  by  squeezing,  indeed,  Henry  Kerr  succeeded  in 
getting  through  the  sweltering  crowd  that  occupied 
the  rear  platform  ;  and  with  one  foot  inside  the  door 
he  managed  to  hold  on  to  the  door,  with  the  remain- 
ing seven-eighths  of  his  body  on  the  outside.  Harry 
climbed  up  the  brake,  got  one  leg  over  the  railing, 
with  his  other  foot  resting  on  the  head  of  a  bolt,  out- 
side, and  his  body  swinging  at  an  angle  of  thirty-five 
degrees,  with  his  hands  clasped  on  the  brakes  ;  while 
Pat.  and  Walter  had  sought  quarters  on  the  front  plat- 
form with  the  driver  ;  where  three  others  had  already 
preceded  them. 

The  car,  finally,  began  to  move,  with  great  pain, 
however,  to  the  horses,  whose  every  muscle  seemed  to 
be  exerted  to  the  utmost  in  the  effort  ;  slipping  and 
striking  fire  from  the  stones  beneath  their  feet,  and 
falling  twice  upon  their  knees,  as  Harry  exclaimed, 
"Hurrah!  for  our  first  trip  to  Washington;  here  is 
the  place  to  pay  your  fare  and  get  the  worth  of  your 
money." 

Having  arrived  at  the  Capitol,  they  alighted  for  a 
short  call.  As  Walter  ascended  those  granite  steps 
to  the  front,  he  wondered  if  the  day  ever  would  come 
when  he  would  be  ascending  them  as  one  of  the 
nation's  honored  representatives. 

They  were  shown  into  the  gallery  of  the  Senate, 
where  they  saw  the  vacant  seats  so  lately  occupied  by 
the   heads   of    the   rebel   government,   by    Davis,  and 


262  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Toombs,  and  Wigfall,  and  Benjamin,  and  Mason  and 
Slidell. 

But  ultra  as  he  was  in  his  views,  Walter  never 
dreamed  how  soon  those  seats,  both  there  and  in  the 
House,  would  be  reoccupied  by  colored  men.  He  saw 
Vice-President  Hamlin  presiding  over  this  august 
body;  he  had  pointed  out  to  him  the  illustrious  radi- 
cals of  the  hour — Sumner,  and  Wade,  and  Wilson,  and 
Trumbull  and  Zack  Chandler  ;  but  none  of  these  dis- 
tinguished gentlemen  made  any  utterance  while  he  was 
in  ;  except  that  Sumner  rose  once,  merely  to  make  a 
motion  on  some  immaterial  question  ;  but  it  afforded 
him  great  satisfaction  to  see  and  hear  even  that  much 
of  the  man  whose  injuries  and  whose  eloquence  had  so 
touched  his  sympathies  and  his  admiration  eight 
years  before. 

They  passed  over  to  the  House  of  Representatives, 
to  make  an  equally  brief  call  there.  Speaker  Colfax 
was  in  the  chair  himself.  He  asked  eagerly  to  be 
shown  the  "Old  Commoner,"  but  he  was  not  in  his 
seat.  "Just  stepped  out  to  the  committee  room."  was 
the  reply.  He  was  shown,  however,  other  ultra  lead- 
ers of  the  House — such  as  Bingham,  Lovejo}'  and 
Kelley. 

He  made  inquiry  of  the  messenger  for  Brown,  the 
man  whose  eloquence  at  the  Fremont  meeting  had  so 
fired  his  ambition  eight  years  before,  to  receive  the 
reply — "Don't  think  he  is  a  member  of  the  House 
now  ;  never  heard  of  him." 

His  spirits  rose  instantly  from  this  disappointment 
by  his  informant  continuing  "There  comes  old  Stevens 
now." 

Walter  watched  him  with  profound  interest,  as  he 


A    LITTLE    GLOOM    AT    MANSDALE.  263 

limped  up  the  aisle  to  his  seat,  with  step  so  feeble,  with 
face  so  pale  ;  but  with  brow  like  Mars,  to  threaten  and 
command. 

As  they  took  their  leave  of  the  Capitol,  Walter 
thought,  "  I  have  at  least  seen  the  inside  of  the  halls 
within  which  I  had  such  an  early  ambition  to  sit  as  a 
member."  But  he  thought  of  Brown  and  the  obscurity 
into  which  he  had  fallen,  and  said  almost  aloud, 
"Alas,  is  the  fame  of  a  Congressman  so  transient! 
surely,  I  have  looked  upon  men  in  those  halls  to-day 
whose  names  will  be  familiar  to  their  countrymen 
eighty  jxars  hence."  And  they  all  four  proceeded 
directl}'  to  the  White  House,  where  they  were  deter- 
mined to  see  Abraham  L,incoln,  if  possible,  in  the  hour 
that  was  left  them. 

Everywhere  they  beheld  military  men  and  soldiers 
on  guard,  or  hurrying  hither  and  thither.  But  they 
were  not  the  gala-day  soldiers  on  whom  Congress  and 
the  press  had  commented  so  much  the  first  winter  of 
the  war.  The  most  of  these  men,  it  was  evident,  had 
come  from  the  serried  ranks  of  the  front,  withdrawn 
for  a  short  time  for  garrison  duty;  or,  like  themselves, 
were  going  or  coming  on  a  short  furlough. 

Arrived  at  the  White  House,  they  were  shown  into 
the  large  reception  room  to  be  told  by  the  door  tender 
— "The  President  would  positively  not  see  any  more 
visitors  to-day  unless  they  were  after  executive  clem- 
ency, as  it  was  now  after  five  o'clock." 

As  they  were  unable  to  say  they  were  there  to  ask 
the  pardon  of  any  one,  they  stood  for  a  moment  aside 
and  debated  what  to  do,  and  heard  two  very  pompous 
looking  gentlemen  in  fine  clothes  receive  the  same 
answer. 


264  WALTER    GRAHA1V-,    STATESMAN. 

Walter  said,  "What  stupidity  we  have  shown;  we 
should  have  had  a  few  lines  from  our  Congressman 
before  we  came." 

"Yes;"  replied  Henry  Kerr,  and  drawing  a  card 
from  his  jacket,  wrote  on  it  the  following:  "Three 
veterans,  returning  after  their  furlough  to  the  front 
with  one  recruit,  all  anxious  to  simply  shake  you  by 
the  hand  in  this,  the  only  half  hour  that  is  at  their 
command,"  handed  it  to  the  door-keeper  saying, 
imploringly,  "Won't  you  please  hand  that  to  the 
President  ?" 

In  a  few  minutes  the  messenger  returned,  saying, 
"Just  pass  right  in  this  way,  gentlemen,"  leaving  the 
two  gentlemen  in  broadcloth  looking  rather  disgusted. 

As  Major  Kerr,  standing  at  his  full  six  feet,  was  pre- 
sented to  Abraham  Lincoln,  they  all  fully  recognized 
how  far  abov^e  the  crowd  of  his  fellow-men  was  the 
great  President,  as  the  major  had  still  to  look  up  to 
see  that  homel}^  face.  Taking  him  by  the  hand,  he 
said,  "  Mr.  President,  we  beg  your  pardon  for  being  so 
persistent,  but  we  could  not  return  to  the  front  with- 
out, at  least,  seeing  you." 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  glad  to  afford  you  that  pleasure,  if 
it  is  one,"  replied  lyincoln,  as  the  major  pa.ssed  on. 

Walter  approaching  next,  took  the  offered  hand, 
saying,  "  Mr.  President,  to  shake  your  hand  is  to  give 
us  new  strength." 

"  I  assure  you  we  all  need  all  the  strength  that  can 
be  had,"  was  the  simple  reply. 

Pat.,  coming  next  in  turn,  said,  as  he  took  that  hand, 
"  Oh,  we  are  still  holding  the  fort,  Mr.  President. 

"A  very  expensive  one  it  has  proven  to  be," 
replied  Lincoln.      "But  I  trust  we  shall  hold  it." 


I 


A  LITTLE   GLOOM   AT  MANSDALE.  265 

Harrj^  brought  up  the  rear,  sajang,  "  Mr.  President, 
I  cannot  say  returning  to  the  front ;  I  can  only  say 
'we  are  coming,  Father  Abraham,  300,000  more.'  " 

Lincoln  clasped  his  hand  firmly  and  warmly,  and 
replied,  "My  family  has  become  so  large  that  it 
bothers  one  to  give  a  verj'  great  parental  care  to  each 
individual  member  of  it,  but  I  will  do  the  best  I  can  ; 
God  bless  you  all  !"  And  the}^  all  passed  out  of  the 
room,  reserving  their  comments,  principall}',  for  the 
future,  except  that  Henry  Kerr  remarked  : 

"Well,  we  have  seen  the  old  man  anyhow,  and 
while  you  never  can  be  safe  in  sa3'ing  what  judgment 
history  will  pass  upon  a  man  until  he  is  dead,  I  think 
I  have  seen  enough  to  understand  why  this  man  is 
called  '  Honest  old  Abe,'  and  '  Father  Abraham.'  " 

"Very  true,"  said  Walter;  "and  yet  what  if  it 
should  turn  out  that  we  have  just  shaken  hands  with 
the  greatest  man  on  earth." 

"You  always  were  an  enthusiast,"  replied  Henry  ; 
"but  still,  your  proposition  is  not  beyond  the  possi- 
bility of  belief;  those  things  frequently  depend  so 
largely  upon  when  a  man  dies." 

Two  daj^s  later  the  four  men  were  with  their  regi- 
ment in  the  Ami)-  of  the  Potomac,  where  they  were 
greeted  by  old  comrades,  anxious  to  have  the  last 
whisper  of  home. 

Bewildering,  indeed,  was  the  whole  scene  now  to 
Harry  Morton. 

Even  Walter  himself,  with  all  that  he  had  experi- 
enced, had  never  seen  such  an  exhibition  of  the 
nation's  strength.  Not  that  the  fighting  could  have 
been  more  severe  than  it  had  been  in  the  West,  but 
the  illimitable  rows  of  burnished  steel  that  glittered  in 
12 


266  WAI^TER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

the  twilight  air,  as  they  were  going  in  and  out  for  dress 
parade,  gave  him  a  better  comprehension  of  the  magni- 
tude of  the  contests  that  had  been  going  on  in  the 
East,  if  this  army  had  been  fighing  anything  like  the 
Army  of  the  West  had  been,  and  of  that  he  had  no 
reason  to  doubt,  as  they  were  all  Americans.  It  filled 
him  with  a  deeper  realization  of  the  magnitude  and 
power  of  the  foe  that  was  still  before  them,  requiring 
such  an  army  as  this  to  conquer  it.  But  we  are 
obliged  to  leave  Walter  for  the  time  being  in  this  sea 
of  bayonets,  and  give  a  brief  account  of  some  of  the 
happenings  at  Mansdale. 

It  was  the  early  May  ;  the  night  was  clear  and  mild. 
Blanch  Morton  was  attending  the  Ladies'  Aid  Society; 
she  pulled  lint  with  the  rest  of  the  ladies  ;  took  a  lively 
interest  in  the  arrangements  for  the  coming  festival, 
and  talked  cheerftdly  to  the  other  girls  on  general  mat- 
ters, many  of  whom,  like  herself,  had  a  brother  or 
some  friend  in  the  army. 

Mrs.  A.,  president  of  the  society,  said,  "  She  noticed 
by  the  morning  papers  that  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
was  fighting  again,  or  likely  to  be  ;  that  it  had  crossed 
over  the  Rapidan."  Mrs.  B.  said,  "Yes,  but  she 
guessed  it  was  only  a  light  skirmish  ;  not  a  general 
engagement." 

Mrs.  C.  said,  "  O,  no,  this  evening's  paper  said  there 
had  been  pretty  heavy  fighting  ;  might  be  it  was  the 
commencement  of  a  regular  campaign." 

Mrs.  D.  said,  "  M)'!  I  hope  the  One  Hundred  and 
Seventeenth  aren't  in  it.  I  think  they  have  seen 
battles  enough  since  they  went  out ;  they  are  entitled 
to  a  little  rest." 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  A.,  "as  you  have 


A     LITTLE   GLOOM   AT   MANSDALE.  267 

a  brother  in  that  regiment,  and  I  have  a  son  ;  but  here 
is  Blanch,  who  now  has  a  brother  in  the  Seventy-fifth  ; 
I  reckon  she  thinks  they  are  entitled  to  a  rest,  too.  In 
fact,  my  husband  said  to-day  at  the  dinner  table 
he  couldn't  tell  which  of  those  two  regiments  had 
been  used  the  harder  since  they  went  out."  "I 
think  either  of  them  could  retire  with  credit,"  said 
Mrs.  B.,  "but  my  husband  said  this  evening,  that 
he  did  not  think  the  Seventy-fifth  would  be  in 
this  engagement ;  they  had  been  too  lately  trans- 
ferred to  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  ;  it  would  take  a 
little  while  to  get  things  organized  and  drill  their  new 
recruits,  &c." 

Blanch  said,  "  O,  I  think  so,  too." 

She  walked  home  with  Cousin  Ida  and  Mr.  Herr  ;  or, 
rather,  Mr.  Herr  walked  home  with  her  and  Cousin 
Ida  ;  they  parted  with  Miss  Emma  and  her  mother  at 
their  door  ;  as  they  strolled  up  through  the  yard,  they 
passed  Will,  going  down  town. 

Mr.  Herr  accepted  their  invitation  to  come  in  a  few 
minutes.  Aunt  Mary  was  sitting  by  the  light  reading, 
eagerly,  the  evening  paper  that  her  brother  had  just 
laid  down.  Mr.  Morton  was  walking  the  front  porch, 
enjoying  his  segar,  smoking  it  a  little  more  vigorously 
than  usual — a  fact  which  Blanch  noticed  as  he  would 
pass  the  window. 

She  played  a  few  pieces  on  the  piano,  after  which 
Mr.  Herr  took  his  leave. 

Ida  arose  and  went  out  into  the  other  room  where 
her  mother  was  still  reading  the  paper  intently. 

Blanch  passed  upstairs  to  her  own  room  ;  she  raised 
the  window  and  sat  down  by  it.  In  a  few  minutes  she 
heard    Will.'s    returning     footsteps     below;     as     he 


268  WAI^TER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

approached  the  far  end  of  the  porch,  she  heard  her 
father  say,  distinct!}',  "  Did  }-ou  hear  any  later  news?" 

Will.'s  repl}^  she  did  not  distinctly  hear  ;  only  the 
word  "Seventy-fifth";  though  she  remained  perfectly 
calm.  She  drew  up  a  little  closer  to  the  window, 
rested  her  elbows  upon  it  and  her  head  between  her 
hands  ;  she  sat,  she  could  not  have  told  how  long  in 
this  position  ;  she  heard  her  father  still  walking  below, 
though  all  conversation  had  ceased  ;  she  heard  Will, 
walk  into  the  room  to  Aunt  Mary  and  Ida  ;  she  heard 
Ida  going  to  bed  ;  she  heard  Will.'s  footsteps  go  down 
the  walk,  as  if  going  down  town  again  ;  she  tried  to 
follow  the  direction  of  the  sound  as  she  peered  further 
into  the  night  air.  And  such  a  night !  not  a  star  in 
the  sky  had  its  raj's  obstructed  by  a  single  cloud. 
The  soft  zephyrs  were  gently  fanning  her  face  ;  the 
trees  were  covered  by  the  first  greenness  of  spring  ;  the 
large  shrub  bush  below  her  was  wafting  up  its  first 
odors  on  the  dew-laden  air  ;  the  deep,  trilling  voice  of 
the  first  bullfrog  in  the  distant  pond  broke  the  silence 
with  rh\'thmic  tones,  as  he  repeated  his  demand  for 
' '  More-rum ,  More-  rum . ' ' 

There,  in  that  position,  as  she  drank  from  the  great 
fountain  of  Nature,  and  listened  to  the  croaking  of  the 
frog,  she  sent  up  a  silent  and  fervent  prayer  for  Harry. 
And  surely,  while  she  prayed,  there  was  no  Elijah 
mocking,  for  she  pra3'ed  to  the  "one  true  God";  prayed 
from  an  humble  and  contrite  heart,  to  the  God  who 
she  knew  was  the  Author  of  her  being  and  the  Protec- 
tor of  her  soul ;  to  the  God  who  had  made  the  stars 
and  started  them  in  their  orbits  ;  to  the  God  who  had 
scented  the  shrubs,  and  put  the  sounds  in  the  throat  of 
the  frog  ;  to  the   God  whose  attributes  were  love,  and 


A   LITTLE  GLOOM   AT  MANSDALK.  269 

whose  mercy  was  boundless  ;  to  the  God  whose  wis- 
dom was  infinite  and  whose  judgments  were  just  ;  to 
the  God  who  would  some  day  reveal  to  her  why  it 
was,  that  as  she  prayed,  Harry  was  lying  dead  on  the 
field  of  the  Wilderness,  with  a  musket  ball  lodged  in 
his  brain,  with  his  h^zU  uppermost  in  a  deep  ravine 
and  the  woods  on  fire  all  around  him. 

As  she  ceased  praying  at  intervals  and  invoked  her 
reason  to  give  her  comfort,  she  felt  some  room  for 
hope.  In  the  severest  battles  it  was  only  the  small 
number  who  were  killed  outright,  she  reasoned, 
and,  surely,  Walter  would  be  able  to  do  something 
for  him.  She  remembered  his  ardent  promises.  She 
believed  he  was  a  true  character  ;  "  But,  I  know  what 
made  him  promise  me  so  enthusiastically,"  she 
thought,  "  and  it  half  frightens  me."  Could  she 
accept  his  favors  and  refuse  to  reciprocate  to  the 
thought  that  was  in  his  mind  ?  That  was  the  question 
that  engaged  her  own  thoughts  a  little,  even  now. 
It  would  be  perfectly  proper  to  pray  for  him  at  least, 
as  it  was  proper  to  pray  for  all  men  at  the  front 
to-night. 

Yes  ;  pray  on  for  him,  Blanch  ,  he  may  never  need 
your  prayers  more  than  he  does  to  night  ;  for  while 
you  pray  he  is  on  his  road  to  Andersonville  a  prisoner 
of  war. 

She  la}^  back  upon  the  bed  and  fell  asleep  ;  she 
awoke  feeling  a  little  cold  saying,  "Mercy!  how 
long  have  I  been  sleeping  ?" 

She  looked  at  her  watch  ;  it  was  midnigt ;  she 
undressed  and  got  into  bed;  she  heard  footsteps  ascend- 
ing the  stairs  ;  she  was  not  frightened  ;  she  recognized 


270  WAI^TER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

them  as  her  father's.     Again  she  thought,  "Mercy! 
hasn't  father  retired  yet?"' 

She  resisted  her  impulse  to  speak  to  him  ;  but  she 
lay  awake  for  another  hour  before  she  could  go  to 
sleep.  When  morning  came  she  was  sleeping  heavily. 
Her  father  was  up  early  and  stirring  around.  Nine 
o'clock  brought  the  morning  paper ;  it  blazed  with 
large  head-lines,  giving  an  account  of  the  great  battle 
of  the  Wilderness.  It  gave  the  particular  corps  and 
divisions  that  were  engaged.  It  was  the  foreclosure  of 
hope  to  the  Morton  family  that  the  Sev^enty-fifth 
would  escape. 

The  evening  paper  brought  the  first  hurried  and  fre- 
quently inaccurate  list  of  the  killed  and  wounded.  In 
the  first  list  it  had  Henry  Morton,  of  Co.  G,  Sevent}-- 
fifth  regiment. 

Edward  Morton  did  not  go  to  bed  that  night ;  he 
walked  the  porch  and  smoked  incessantly  ;  rested  at 
times  on  the  large  rocking  chair  and  on  the  lounge. 
The  morning  paper  contained  a  revised  list  of  the 
killed  and  wounded  ;  among  the  killed  it  still  had 
Henry  Morton  ;  among  those  believed  to  be  taken 
prisoners  was  Lieutenant  Graham.  This  was  the 
burial  of  hope  for  the  Morton  family.  Nay,  one  faint 
ray  left  after  dinner.  These  things  often  turn  out  in 
some  unexpected  way. 

"Maybe  he  is  not  dead  after  all,"  said  Will.,  "or 
possibly  we  could  at  least  find  his  body  and  bring  it 
home.  What  do  you  think,  father,  had  we  better 
make  the  effort  ?" 

"I  think  so,"  replied  Mr.  Morton,  "do  anything 
that  is  possible." 

"  I  will  help  you  to  get  started  at  once,"  said   Will. 


A    IvlTTLE   GLOOM    AT   MANSDAI^E.  271 

"Is    there    anyone    you    would    like    to    accompany 
you?     I  will  attend  to  business  while  you  are  away." 

"  Oh,  no.  You  will  have  to  go,  Will.  I  am  pros- 
trated," replied  Mr.  Morton. 

Blanch  saw  how  thoroughly  her  father  was  pros- 
trated, and  that  Aunt  Mary  could  not  have  been  more 
deeply  affected  had  it  been  her  own  son. 

Ten  days  passed  on.  Will,  returned  with  Tom 
Swave  who  had  been  with  him.  He  reported  the 
result  of  his  trip  about  as  follows  : 

"Take  a  pin,  stick  it  down  in  a  mud  puddle  ;  draw 
it  out  and  then  hunt  for  the  hole  it  has  left ;  that  is 
about  how  much  chance  we  had,  or  ever  will  have,  of 
recovering  Harry's  body." 

Mr.  Morton  replied,  "That  I  supposed  was  about 
the  size  of  it  from  the  start,  and  yet  we  might  have 
censured  ourselves  if  we  had  not  made  the  effort." 
He  then  got  up,  walked  out  in  the  yard,  sat  down  on 
an  old  rustic  seat  under  the  maple  tree,  near  the  end 
of  the  porch  and  began  smoking  his  segar.  In  a  few 
minutes  Blanch  followed  him  to  the  spot.  She  sat 
down  by  him,  took  his  hand  in  hers  and  said,  "Father, 
this  is  a  very  deep  affliction,  but  I  suppose  all  there  is 
left  for  us  to  do  is  to  reconcile  ourselves  to  it,  just 
as  hundreds  of  others  all  over  the  country  less  fortu- 
nate than  ourselves  have  to  bear  it.  Why  this  has 
been  ordered  as  it  has,  we  cannot  understand,  and  yet 
I  suppose  it  is  our  duty  not  to  question." 

"Ah,  Blanch,  Blanch,"  said  Mr.  Morton,  impres- 
sing a  kiss  upon  her  forehead,  "you  talk  like  a  phil- 
osopher and  a  true  Christian.  Would  to  God  that  was 
all  there  was  of  it ;  that  dearly  as  I  loved  Harry, 
fondly  as  I  dreamed  of  his  future,  for  which  alone  I 


272  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

consented  to  let  him  go  into  the  army,  and  extended  as 
were  the  opportunities  I  intended  to  give  him,  I  could 
feel  that  it  was  simply  God's  will  to  withdraw  him  for 
his  own  sake  without  seeing  in  it  some  particular  retri- 
bution meant  for  me.  Would  that  I  could  feel  just  as 
you  have  said,  Blanch,  that  my  boy  has  gone  like 
thousands  of  others,  simply  a  victim  of  the  war  ;  then, 
I  think,  my  simple  duty  to  bear  it  with  fortitude  would 
sustain  me,  but  there  is  another  matter  that  rests 
heavily  on  me." 

Blanch  turned  her  penetrating  eyes  up  to  her  father's 
and  looked  eagerly  but  tenderlj^  for  the  interpretation 
of  the  words  he  had  spoken.  In  an  instant,  she  said 
softly,  "  Father,  have  you  financial  troubles? '-' 

"Yes,  Blanch,"  came  quicker  than  she  expected. 
"Father,"  replied  Blanch,  "if  that  is  worrying  you 
in  the  midst  of  our  great  loss,  let  it  worrj^  you  no 
longer.  I  am  strong  enough,  I  know,  to  battle  with 
the  world,  by  reason  of  the  very  indulgences  which 
you  have  showered  upon  me,  the  liberal  education  you 
have  given  me.  I  can  teach  school ;  can  get  a  very 
good  position  at  that,  or  I  am  willing  to  go  into  a 
hospital  as  a  nurse  and  help  to  alleviate  some  of  the 
great  suffering  that  is  going  on  in  the  land.  Indeed  I 
am  strong  enough  now  for  any  misfortune.  Will,  and  I 
will  take  care  of  you  in  your  old  days.  Please  do  not 
let  that  distress  you,  Father." 

Blanch  had  read  in  books  of  such  disasters  as  these 
overtaking  families  in  affluent  circumstances,  and  she 
thought  instantly,  upon  the  first  intimation  of  such  a 
thing,  that  the  worst  would  be  to  provide  for.  Mr. 
Morton  seeing  the  wrong  impression  he  had  left  upon 
her  mind,  clasped  her  to  him,  gave  her  a  kiss,  and  said, 


A  urrhn  gloom  at  mansdat,-e:.  27.S 

"  Why,  Blanch,  Blanch,  what  a  jewel  you  are.  I  am 
not  in  financial  straits  at  all  :  I  am  better  fixed  finan- 
cially than  you  or  my  neighbors  suppose.  The  finan- 
cial trouble  that  is  on  my  mind  is  as  to  how  I  acquired 
some  of  my  wealth." 

Blanch,  recovering,  said,  "  Whj',   father,   you  have 
never  done  anything  wrong,  have  you?" 

"Blanch,    my    daughter,"  replied   Mr.  Morton,  "do 
you  know  that  your  father  was  a  slave-holder  ?" 

"Why,  no,  father;  when?" 

"  You  know  about  our  North  Carolina  enterprise," 
replied  Mr.  Morton.  "It  is  not  necessary  to  go  into 
detail.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  I  went  into  it.  Of 
course,  your  Uncle  Joseph,  your  mother's  own  brother, 
rather  urged  me  to  do  it ;  he  wanted  to  befriend  his 
brother-in-law  ;  of  course,  I  thought  I  saw  mone}^  in 
it.  I  did  make,  even  then,  some  feeble  protest  about 
it  involving  the  ownership  of  slaves  ;  I  was  told  T  need 
not  have  any  compunctions  of  conscience  about  their 
business,  all  I  had  to  do  was  to  furnish  the  money  ;  it 
came  out  in  the  end  just  as  I  expected,  that  I  was 
made  joint  owner  in  fee  of  everything,  slaves  and  all, 
without  even  the  privilege  of  protecting  them  from 
abuse  ;  my  conscience  was  not  easy  about  it,  but  of 
course,  forty  thousand  dollars  profits  was  supposed 
to  make  conscience  be  still.  But,  do  j^ou  know,  since 
Harry's  death,  I  have  been  haunted  all  the  time.  It 
seems  like  blood  money  on  my  conscience,  and  here  is 
poor  George  Reed's  widow  and  daughter  beggared 
by  what  has  helped  to  make  me  rich.  Is  it  any  won 
der  that  I  should  think  the  hand  of  justice  has  over- 
taken me?  Ah  !  Blanch,  what  the  sin  of  slavery  has 


274  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

cost  this   nation  anyhow  !    What   are   those   lines   ot 
Whittier's  that  you  have  set  to  music— 
'  Hot  burns  the  fire, 
Where  wrongs  expire?"  ' 

"Well,  but,  father,  you  were  always  anti-slavery, 
were  you  not?  Why,  you  voted  for  Fremont  in  1856, 
long  before  many  others  had  become  Republicans,  did 
you  not?"  said  Blanch. 

"Yes,"  said  her  father,  "  I  have  been  a  Republican 
from  the  start,  but  a  conservative  one.  I  was  an  Old 
Line  Whig  before  that,  and  had  no  place  else  to  go 
except  into  the  Democracy,  which  I  had  always  been 
against  more  from  education  and  policy  than  from 
principle,  simply  because  I  believed  in  tariff  and  such 
stuff  as  that.  I  had  been  raised  indeed  very  conserva- 
tive in  all  my  ideas,  descended  from  an  old  Federal  fam- 
ily, the  aristocrats  of  our  county,  and  been  taught  how 
to  make  money.  Why,  away  back  in  the  beginning 
of  parties,  you  know,  it  was  the  wealthy  and  aristo- 
cratic portion  of  the  country  that  made  up  the  Federal 
party.  The  Democrat  or  Anti- Federal  party  was  com- 
prised of  the  lowly,  the  humble,  whose  rights  were 
always  gtiarded  by  Jefferson.  I  deserve  no  credit  for 
being  a  Republican  ;  current  events  just  drifted  me 
there.  But  later  on,  when  the  Democratic  party 
became  completely  prostituted  to  slavery,  bowed  in 
perfect  subjection  to  the  slave  oligarchy  of  the  South, 
then,  when  men,  whose  affiliations  had  always  been 
with  it,  began  to  leav^e  it  from  principle,  they  were  the 
men  who  were  entitled  to  some  credit — men  like 
Jacob  Graham,  who  severed  his  life  associations  and 
voted  for  Fremont  also  from  the  beginning.  Yes,  yes, 
thirty  3'ears  ago  even  John  Williamson  was  a  Demo- 


A   LITTLE   GLOOM   AT  MANSDALE.  275 

crat.  I  am  entitled  to  no  more  credit  than  these 
Democrats  who  have  become  Republicans  since  the 
war  broke  out.  I  am  ashamed  of  myself  when  I 
reflect  that  even  in  the  winter  of  1861,  I  would  still 
have  patched  things  up  for  a  short  time  with  another 
compromise." 

"  But,  father,  I  thought  slavery  was  abolished  in 
this  country  now.  I  thought  we  had  repented  for  that 
sin." 

"Yes,  abolished,  my  child."  said  Mr.  Morton,  "so 
far  as  the  war  power  of  the  government  can  abolish  it 
in  the  States  actually  in  rebellion,  but  do  you  know 
there  are  five  entire  States  of  this  Union  where  it  exists 
to-day,  and  under  full  protection  of  our  government, 
and  there  is  no  way  to  be  thoroughly  rid  of  it  except 
by  constitutional  amendment.  Besides,  our  repent- 
ance has  been  eleventh  hour  repentance.  It  has  been 
in  sack  cloth  and  ashes.  Even  Abraham  Lincoln  did 
not  issue  that  proclamation  from  choice.  He  was 
driven  to  it.  He  is  not  a  radical,  honest  as  he  is  He 
is  timid  in  action,  conservative  in  his  nature,  like  myself. 
I  know  when  Horace  Greeley  came  with  that  editorial, 
that  Abraham  Lincoln  should  issue  the  enmancipation 
proclamation  before  we  went  on  "  murdering  any  more 
men,"  I  thought  it  was  harsh.  But  now  I  see  it  was 
only  calling  things  hy  their  right  names.  Yes, 
Blanch,  slavery  has  murdered  our  Harry.  Slavery 
has  murdered  George  Reed,  and  widowed  his  wife  and 
orphaned  his  child.  Slavery-  has  taken  young  Gra- 
ham down  to  a  Southern  prison-pen  to  starve  him  to 
death,  in  all  probability.  No,  I  am  a  radical  Republican 
now,  ready  to  follow  Ben.  Wade,  Sumner,  Thad. 
Stevens  and  Horace  Greeley  whither  they  may  lead." 


I 


27fi  WALTliR   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"Father,  don't  3'ou  think  we  could  do  something 
for  Mrs.  Reed  and  Emma,"  said  Blanch  plaintively. 

"Yes,  Blanch,"  replied  Mr.  Morton,  "I  am  under 
the  most  solenui  obligation  to  my  conscience  to  see  to 
it  that  they  never  suffer.  The}"  are  self-respecting  and 
do  not  wish  to  be  made  mendicants  while  they  are  able 
to  work,  and  that  is  all  right,  but  for  fear  that  I  should 
be  taken  off  first,  they  are  already  provided  for  in  my 
will.  Come  in,  Blanch,  and  play  me  the  '  Furnace 
Blast'  on  the  melodeon." 

They  went  into  the  house,  where  the  room  was  soon 
filled  with  the  melod}^  of  Blanch's  voice,  singing  out 
the  words  : 

"We  wait  beneath  the  furnace-blast 
The  pangs  of  transformation  ; 
Not  painlessly  doth  God  recast 
And  mould  anew  the  nation. 
Hot  burns  the  fire 
Where  wrongs  expire  ; 
Nor  spares  the  hand 
That  from  the  land 
Uproots  the  ancient  evil. 

What  gives  the  wheat-field  blades  of  steel  ? 

What  points  the  rebel  cannon  ? 
What  sets  the  roaring  rabble's  heel 
On  the  old  star-spangled  pennon  ? 
What  breaks  the  oath 
Of  the  men  o'  the  South  ? 
What  whets  the  knife  • 
For  the  Union's  life  ? 
Hark  to  the  answer  :  Slavery  ! 

Then  waste  no  blows  on  lesser  foes 

In  strife,  unworthy  freemen; 
God  lifts  to-day  the  veil,  and  shows 

The  features  of  the  demon  !  " 


A  little;  gloom  at  mansdale;.  277 

When  she  had  proceeded  thus  far,  he  stopped  her, 
and  said,  "Repeat  it." 

She  sang  it  over  again  with  more  force  than  ever, 
while  the  whole  family  listened.  At  the  conclusion, 
he  sat  for  a  few  moments,  then  went  out  on  the  porch 
and  was  about  lighting  another  segar,  but  he  threw 
the  match  away,  saying,  "I  must  desist;  I  know  I 
have  been  smoking  too  much  these  last  ten  days, ' '  and 
resumed  his  walk  on  the  porch. 

As  Blanch  went  to  the  door,  she  heard  him  repeating, 
' '  Hot  burns  the  fire 
Where  wrongs  expire." 

He  called  her  to  him.  They  walked  to  the  end  of 
the  porch  together,  where  he  said  to  her,  "  Blanch,  to- 
morrow I  am  going  to  send  ten  thousand  dollars  to  the 
Sanitary  Commission,  and  ten  thousand  dollars  to  the 
Freedmen's  Association.  The  other  twenty  thousand 
I  have  already  given  you  a  broad  hint  as  to  what  has 
become  of  that.     Am  I  doing  right  ?  " 

"Yes,  father,  you  are  doing  right,"  replied  Blanch. 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  so,  Blanch,"  said  Mr.  Morton, 
"the  fire  seems  to  burn  less  hotly  alreadj^". 


6)0(5) 


CHAPTER     XVII. 

SOME  OLD  ACQUAINTANCES. 

"  See  how  far  the  httle  candle  throws  its  beam." 

— Merchant  of  Vetiice. 

AS  Walter  Graham  sat  at  sundown  on  a  log  at  the 
-  rear  of  the  rebel  army,  with  about  forty  other 
Union  soldiers,  guarded  by  a  small  platoon  of  rebel 
soldiers,  he  began  to  question  seriously,  almost  regret- 
fully, the  wisdom  of  the  act  which  had  caused  him  to 
be  in  his  present  situation.  Now  that  cooling  time 
had  elapsed,  he  began  to  suspect  what  others  could  see 
clearly,  the  utter  madness  of  his  attempt.  He  had 
rushed  forward  to  secure  Harry's  body  from  as  gener- 
ous an  impulse  as  ever  filled  human  breast,  not  a  single 
thought  of  self,  only  the  thought  of  Blanch. 

He  almost  regretted  having  been  weak  enough  to 
yield  at  the  instant  to  that  inborn  instinct  to  cling  to 
life.  "Oh!"  he  thought,  "if  after  we  had  been  tem- 
porarily repulsed,  and  I  had  succeeded  in  getting 
Harry's  body  back  as  far  as  the  ravine,  when  that 
second  volley  passed  just  over  my  head,  and  below  the 
feet  of  the  other  men,  if  instead  of  throwing  up  my 
hands  at  the  third  fire  and  crying  surrender,  I  had 
rushed  headlong  into  it,  how  much  better  off  I  would 
have  been  at  this  moment  in  Heaven  with  Harr}'  than 
where  I  am.  His  anguish  was  unspeakable,  when  he 
reflected  upon  the  failure  of  his  effort;  that  it  had 
done  Blanch  no  earthly  good  ;  that  he  himself  would 
probabl}"  never  look  upon   her  face  again  ;    that  she 


SOME   OLD   ACQUAINTANCES.  279 

would  bestow  most  likely  very  little  thought  upon  him  ; 
the  chances  indeed  that  she  would  entirelj^  forget  him, 
and  go  down  to  her  grave  ignorant  of  the  love  that 
was  in  his  breast.  He  could  see  so  clearly  the  gloom 
that  would  fall  upon  his  brothers  and  sisters  when  the 
news  of  his  fate  reached  home  ;  that  it  would  crush  his 
father  and  break  the  heart  of  his  mother. 

It  may  be,  there  were  Union  soldiers  who  desired  to 
be  taken  prisoners  to  avoid  the  further  dangers  of  war  ; 
it  may  be,  there  were  men  upholding  the  flag  of  the 
Union  so  mean  as  that.  All  that  I  will  say  now  is, 
Walter  Graham  was  not  one  of  these.  He  had  already 
heard  enough  of  the  horrors  of  Andersonville  and 
I/ibb}'^  prisons  to  cause  him  to  say,  "  Death,  death  any 
time  in  preference  to  months  of  that ;"  so  deep  was  the 
despair  and  desperation  that  sank  down  in  his 
mind,  that  he  began  contemplating  some  means  of 
escape,  however  hazardous.  As  he  looked  into  the 
countenances  of  his  fellow  prisoners,  he  saw  some  that 
seemed  stolid  and  indifferent.  But  he  saw  others 
whose  faces  showed  plainly  enough  that  they  were 
conscious  of  their  situation.  One  exceptionally  well- 
informed  man  of  about  thirty  years  of  age,  to  whom 
he  had  suggested  that  they  get  up  and  walk  right  past 
the  guards,  replied,  "  That  is  simply  to  be  shot  down 
in  cold  blood  ;  let  us  at  least  wait  until  dark." 

Night  came  on,  and  so  did  a  double  supply  of  sen- 
tinels. They  were  marched  off  two  miles  further 
south,  to  an  open  field.  As  he  saw  the  avenues  of 
escape  closing  around  him,  the  prospect  of  such  a 
thing  growing  darker  and  darker,  he  was  touched  on 
the  shoulder  by  the  same  man,  who  whispered  to  him. 


280  WALTKR   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"  I  wonder  if  an)^  of  these  fellows  can  be  bribed  ?  How 
much  money  have  you  about  you  ?" 

Walter  shook  his  head  dissentingly,  and  made  no 
further  reply,  though  for  one  brief  moment  he  thought 
of  the  fifty  dollars  concealed  in  his  boot  lining,  while 
his  friend  continued,  "  I  will  cheerfully  give  all  I  have 
about  me,  and  pledge  my  father  for  a  thousand  more 
if  it  will  secure  me  my  liberty  at  this  moment."  As 
he  looked  into  the  man's  face,  he  saw  that  he  was 
thoroughly  in  earnest.  No,  there  was  no  device  that 
could  have  been  conceived,  no  lie  that  human  ingenuity 
could  have  invented,  to  which  he  would  not  have 
resorted,  and  considered  himself  perfectly  justifiable, 
if  it  would  have  placed  him  safely  back  in  the  Union 
army.  He  would  have  done  anything  short  of  promis- 
ing to  enlist  in  the  rebel  army,  and  it  must  be  said  for 
every  prisoner  in  that  group,  that  not  one  of  them, 
ignorant  or  intelligent,  would  have  consented,  under 
any  circumstances,  to  do  that.  Outside  of  that,  it  is 
doubtful  to  what  extent  many  of  them  would  have 
gone.  "Uncle  Tom,"  with  all  his  ignorance,  and  all 
his  faith,  may  have  been  Christian  enough  to  go,  like 
Christ  himself,  to  the  stake  for  conscience  sake,  but  I 
am  compelled  to  write  it  down,  though  the  pen  may 
falter  and  the  conscience  regret,  that  there  were  among 
those  prisoners,  men  who  had  been  raised  in  Christian 
homes  whose  minds  were  enlightened  with  knowledge 
and  endowed  with  intelligence,  who  would  no  more 
have  hesitated  that  night  about  moral  theories  or 
questions  of  abstract  right  and  wrong  which  stood  in 
the  way  of  their  liberties  than  they  would  have  hesi- 
tated to  shoot  down  a  wild  beast  that  was  about  to  tear 
them  to  pieces. 


SOME   OLD    ACQUAINTANCES.  281 

Walter,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  even  now  in  the 
throes  of  his  agony,  resolved  that  he  would  resort  to 
nothing  less  than  honorable  means  to  save  himself 
from  the  torture  that  awaited  him,  since  he  had  told 
Blanch  in  the  fever  heat  of  his  love,  that  he  would  not 
go  beyond  that  line,  even  to  save  Harry  for  her  sake. 
He  would,  however,  at  the  slightest  prospect  of  hope 
use  his  limbs  and  muscles,  the  means  with  which  God 
and  nature  had  endowed  him,  to  secure  his  liberty,  the 
desire  for  which  God  had  certainly  not  planted 
erroneously  in  every  human  breast,  and  he  felt  surely 
he  was  under  no  moral  obligation  to  conscience,  to 
country  or  to  God,  to  go  down  to  a  southern  prison- 
pen  to  be  uselessly  starved  to  death.  Meanwhile  he 
would  encourage  some  faint  hope  that  some  unforeseen 
turn  in  the  fortunes  of  war  might  come  to  his  rescue 
during  the  night ;  that  they  might  possibly  be  recap- 
tured before  morning  or  the  next  da^'  ;  that  they 
might  be  paroled,  exchanged,  or  something  of  the 
kind,  before  the}'  were  finally  started  for  Anderson- 
ville. 

Morning  came  and  he  was  still  a  prisoner.  At 
seven  o'clock  there  was  passed  around  to  the  men,  not 
one  of  whom  Walter  had  ever  seen  before  (though 
they  were  all  brothers  now),  three  hard  tacks  and  two 
bites  of  meat  apiece.  Though  he  had  not  tasted  food 
since  noon  of  the  day  before,  he  could  not  say  that 
he  was  hungry.  He  minced  it  down  with  a  kind  of 
feeling  of  self-preservation,  as  he  surveyed  the  situation 
around  him,  listened  to  some  occasional  firing  which 
he  could  still  hear  to  the  north,  and  nursed  his  hope 
that  the  unforeseen  might  soon  occur,  bringing  to  him 
bis  deliverance.     But  twenty  minutes  later  they  were 


282  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

out  on  the  public  road,  marching  under  heavy  guard 
for  Anderson ville.  Then  it  was  that  he  felt  the  full 
force  of  the  words, ' '  Now  leave  hope  behind. ' '  He  had 
not  read  those  words  then,  but  his  soul  uttered  them  all 
the  same.  Dante  can  no  more  claim  their  origin  than 
can  Walter  Graham,  who  felt  them  with  all  their  pun- 
gency that  morning.  All  morning,  as  they  marched 
along,  he  was  silent  and  gloomy  ;  more  so  than  the 
rest  of  the  men.  And  yet  that  vital  spark  which  seems 
after  all  to  be  unquenchable,  was  still  alive,  though 
deeply  buried. 

Whatev-er  unseen  angel  it  is  that  still  drops  down 
once  in  a  while  through  all  this  molten  mass  of  dark- 
ness to  keep  the  soul  alive,  it  would  return  occasionally 
to  Walter  and  make  him  conscious  of  its  presence. 
Whether  it  could  be  that  it  whispered  to  him  the  fact 
that  Blanch  had  actually  prayed  for  him,  not  exactly  in 
the  capacit}^  of  a  lover,  as  he  had  for  her,  but  even  as 
one  who  knew  the  thought  that  was  in  his  mind  when 
he  expressed  himself  so  warmly  to  her,  and  was  "  half 
frightened,"  I  cannot  say.  I  only  knowjthat  knowl- 
edge of  even  that  much  would  have  sustained  him 
wonderfully  on  his  weary  journey. 

At  all  events,  an  hour's  marching  had  settled  his 
mind  sufficientl}^  to  remember  what  he  had  not  thought 
of  before,  that  since  his  captivity  none  of  these  men 
had  offered  him  any  indignity.  For  a  moment,  hope 
revived.  He  wondered  if  it  could  be  that  the  reports 
of  their  cruel  treatment  of  prisoners  were  exaggerated. 
But  no,  he  felt  that  the  charges  were  too  well  fortified 
to  admit  of  doubt.  And  yet  how  could  they  be  true. 
These  men  have  been  brave,  and  the  brave  never  strike 
a  fallen  foe      Could  it  be  that  the  people  of  the  South 


SOME   OI.D   ACQUAINTANCES.  283 

sanctioned  any  such  treatment  of  defenceless  men  as 
was  reported  to  the  people  of  the  North  ?  Was  it  pos- 
sible that  General  L,ee  would  lend  his  name  to  any- 
such  course  ?  He  could  not  bring  himself  to  believe 
it,  and  yet  he  could  not  doubt  the  well  authenticated 
reports  that  had  come  to  his  ears.  It  must  be,  he 
thought,  that  irresponsible  subordinates  had  been 
transcending  their  powers,  and  that  the  authorities  at 
Richmond  had  probably  preferred  to  remain  in  ignor- 
ance of  what  they  would  not  have  openly  sustained. 

Be  that  as  it  ma}^,  he  would  strike  for  his  liberty,  if 
the  remotest  possibility  of  success  should  arise. 

A  half  hour  later  they  halted  for  a  short  rest.  The 
officer  in  command  wore  the  epaulettes  of  a  lieutenant 
colonel.  As  he  rode  back  to  the  rear  of  the  column  to 
give  some  order  to  the  guards,  Walter  looked  up  into 
his  face,  taking  a  full  view  of  him.  As  he  gave  the 
order  to  march,  he  noticed  that  he  raised  his  hand 
with  a  peculiar  emphasis,  pointing  with  his  index 
finger,  and  gave  his  command  in  a  clear,  rasping  voice. 
Both  the  countenance  and  the  manner  attracted  his 
attention  but  he  expressed  nothing. 

At  the  second  halt,  he  walked  up  toward  the  front  of 
the  column  to  catch  another  glimpse  of  that  counte- 
nance, as  he  would  turn  in  his  saddle  and  look  back. 
It  was  bronzed  and  weather-beaten.  It  was  eliciting, 
however,  his  greatest  interest,  especially  as  he  watched 
his  manner  of  addressing  his  companions  and  giving 
his  commands,  but  still  he  kept  his  own  counsel. 

At  noon,  when  they  stopped  for  a  longer  rest, 
Walter  walked  up  to  the  front,  within  speaking  dis- 
tance of  where  the  Colonel  was  sitting,  and  saluted  him. 


284  WALTER    GRAHAM,    .STATESMAN. 

saN'ing,  "  Colonel,  can  I  have  the  pleasure  of  speaking 
with  3-011  a  few  minutes?" 

"  You  can  speak  to  me  right  now  and  here,  if  you 
wish,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  would  like  to  have,  if  you  please.  Colonel,  the 
privilege  of  speaking  with  you  for  a  few  minutes 
private!}-,"  replied  Walter. 

"  I  have  no  special  privileges  to  grant  to  anyone," 
replied  the  Colonel.  "  What  is  it  that  you  wish  to 
say  ?     You  can  proceed  right  here." 

"  I  merely  wanted  to  say,"  said  Walter,  with  great 
composure.  "  that  I  think  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  you  before.  I  have  no  special  privileges  to  ask, 
in  violation  of  your  very  just  rule  to  serve  all  prisoners 
alike.  I  mereh-  thought  it  would  be  pleasant  for  old 
acquaintances,  which  I  am  now  satisfied  you  and  I  are, 
to  talk  over  things  by  ourselves." 

The  Colonel  peered  into  his  countenance  for  a  full 
minute,  then  said  to  the  guard,  "  Have  j-ou  exam- 
ined this  man  thoroughl}-  ?  Are  you  sure  he  is 
entirely  unarmed?" 

The  guard  replied,  "I  am,  Colonel." 

''Let  him  come  up.  You  may  retire,"  said  the 
Colonel. 

Walter  advanced,  took  the  Colonel's  extended  hand, 
as  he  asked  him  the  question,  "  Where  do  you  think 
you  ever  saw  me  before  ?" 

"  In  my  father's  house,"  replied  Walter. 

"  I  see  now  that  you  are  right,"  replied  the  Colonel, 
"though  I  don't  suppose  I  should  have  recognized 
you,  if  you  had  not  made  yourself  known.  Though, 
of  course,  he  continued,  with  a  grim  smile,  "  I  was 
not   looking   for   you    on   this   occasion,  as  you   may 


SOME   OI.D    ACQUAINTANCES.  285 

well  suppose.  I  did,  however,  begin  to  recognize  you 
when  you  spoke  the  second  time.  How  are  you  any- 
how ?  I  am  really  glad  to  meet  you,  and  have  an 
opportunity  to  talk  with  you.  Come  this  way,"  and 
he  stepped  a  few  paces  to  one  side,  Walter  following 
him,  when  both  sat  down  on  the  bank. 

After  they  had  learned  all  about  each  other's 
experiences  since  they  had  first  met,  Walter  learning 
that  Clinton  had  been  .severely  wounded  at  Chancel- 
lorsville  a  year  before,  from  w^hich  he  was  only  now 
fairly  recovered,  Clinton  said  to  Walter,  "Well, 
what  has  become  of  Reed,  who  it  appears  has  already 
given  5^ou  some  account  of  me. ' ' 

"He  enlisted  in  a  three  years'  regiment,  that  was 
made  up  partly  in  Jefferson  county,  and  was  killed  last 
fall  in  some  small  but  severe  engagement  in  Virginia. 
I  think  it  was  Kelley's  Ford." 

"  What  has  become  of  his  wife  and  daughters." 

"  They  are  keeping  a  little  store  in  Mansdale." 

"Emma  was  a  bright,  intelligent  young  girl," 
replied  Clinton.  "Remember  me  kindly  to  her  and 
her  mother  when  next  you  see  them.  Some  of  you 
northern  braves  ought  to  marry  her.  You  might  do 
worse. ' ' 

Walter  replied,  "Yes,  she  is  a  very  bright,  enter- 
taining girl,  and  she  will  not  be  allowed  to  suffer.  As 
for  the  marrying  business,  you  had  better  come  up 
North  after  the  war  is  over,  and  do  that  yourself. 
Make  a  romance  worth  while." 

"Why,  you  woiild  not  expect  me  to  marry  a 
Yankee  girl,  would  you  ?" 

"Don't  know   what   you    may  do  yet.     The   only 


286  \VAI.TER   GRAHAM,  STATESMAN. 

difficulty  I  see  about  it  is,  I  don't  believe  she  would 
marry  a  rebel." 

"  Pretty  bitter,  is  she  ?"  asked  Clinton. 

"Yes,  she  is,"  replied  Walter.  "  She  has  occasion 
to  be.  But  at  the  same  time,  I  believe  both  she  and 
her  mother  have  rather  a  kindly  feeling  toward  you." 

"Yes.  the  family  have  been  handled  pretty  rough," 
said  Clinton.  "  I  can  imagine  her  being  pretty  strong 
in  her  feelings,  especially  if  it  is  with  you  as  it  is  with 
us.     The  women  are  far  more  bitter  than  the  men." 

"There  may  be  something  in  that,"  said  Walter. 

"  How  is  your  young  lady  friend  coming  on,"  con- 
tinued Clinton,  "who  thought  the  Southern  people 
were  nothing  but  a  set  of  blowhorns  ?' ' 

"I  think  I  may  say  that  she  has  changed  her  opinion 
somewhat  as  to  that, ' '  replied  Walter,  ' '  .since  you 
caused  her  to  stand  by  the  graves  of  a  betrothed  hus- 
band and  a  brother.  I  gave  her  your  compliments  that 
winter,  as  you  requested  me,  for  her  opinion  of  the 
Southern  people.     She  laughed." 

Clinton  looked  at  Walter  and  said,  "  Poor  girl,  give 
her  my  compliments  again,  if  ever  you  see  her,  though 
I  have  no  doubt  that  she  would  rather  have  the  blood 
of  Southern  men  now  than  their  compliments  ;  but, 
still  I  send  my  compliments  to  her  as  '  a  foeman 
worthy  of  his  steel,'  and  tell  her  that  her  friends  have 
long  since  dispelled  the  idea  with  our  people,  that  one 
Southerner  can  thrash  five  Yankees  ' ' 

' '  When  am  I  to  tell  her  all  this  ? ' ' 

"When  you  get  back  home." 

"  Yes,  if  I  ever  get  back  home." 

"Oh,  you  will  live  to  get  back  all  right." 

"  Not  unless  you  give  me  a  chance  right  now  and 
here.  Colonel,"  said  Walter. 


SOME   OLD   ACQUAINTANCES.  287 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Clinton,  looking  at 
him  half  savagely. 

Walter  locked  him  straight  in  the  eye,  and  replied 
with  perfect  composure,  "Just  what  I  say,  Colonel;  I 
know  as  well  as  I  know  that  I  am  here,  that  I  am 
simply  going  down  to  my  grave  if  I  have  to  languish 
any  length  of  time  in  prison.  Some  temperaments  may 
stand  it,  but  I  know  mine  will  not.  Colonel  Clinton,  I 
address  you  as  my  friend  ;  I  tell  you,  you  now  have 
it  in  your  power  to  do  me  a  great  personal  favor,  which 
will  put  me  under  obligation  to  you  for  the  rest  of  my 
life  and  do  no  injury  to  yourself;  I  mean,  simply  give 
me  some  opportunity  to  escape.  I  know  I  shall  die  if 
I  go  to  Andersonville,  and  the  news  of  such  a  thing 
will  kill  my  mother,  and  I  know  you  do  not  wish  to  do 
that  I  have  told  truthfully  my  history  since  you  last 
saw  me  ;  I  believe  that  you  believe  me.  I  am  no  mer- 
cenary spy,  pleading  simply  for  life  ;  I  am  a  square, 
open  foe,  and  respect  you  as  such.  Shoot  me  down  in 
battle  and  I  will  respect  you,  and  so  will  my  parents 
and  all  my  friends  in  the  North,  but  don't  torture  me 
to  death  in  a  prison.  Colonel  Clinton,  I  repeat  it,  you 
and  I  are  friends,  not  enemies,  and  I  believe  you  have 
it  in  your  power  to  grant  a  friend  a  personal  favor 
without  doing  yourself  an  injury,  and  all  in  conformity 
with  your  noble  conduct  to  Reed.  God  knows  that  I 
shall  appreciate  the  favor,  and  no  man  can  tell  how 
soon  I  may  have  an  opportunity  to  return  it.  We 
never  know  what  changes  may  take  place  in  the  for- 
tunes of  war." 

Clinton  looked  at  him  steadily  as  he  spoke  these 
words.  His  eyes  changed  from  their  savage  glare, 
first  to  astonishment  and  then  to  sympathy,  and  he 


288  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

replied,  "Why,  you  seem  to  have  a  poor  opinion  of 
the  Southern  people;  don't  you  think  we  will  treat 
you  properly  as  a  prisoner  of  war  ?  ' ' 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  would,  Colonel,  but  I  greatly 
prefer  the  hardships  of  liberty  or  the  dangers  of  battle 
to  prison  life,  and  besides,  mother  would  not  know 
whether  I  was  dead  or  alive. ' ' 

Clinton  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  said, 
■'  How  old  are  you,  young  man  ?  " 

"I  was  twenty-one  on  the  twenty-third  of  last 
April,"  replied  Walter,  "just  two  da5's  after  I  started 
for  the  front  from  my  veteran  furlough."  "Do  you 
think  you  could  find  the  way  back  if  I  was  to  let  you 
go?  "  said  Clinton  meditativeh'. 

"  Yes  sir,  I  am  sure  I  could;  I  shall  not  hold  you 
responsible  for  that.  Colonel,  if  you  will  only  give  me 
the  chance." 

"Yes,  but  don't  3-ou  understand,"  replied  Clinton, 
"that  you  run  great  risk  of  being  recaptured  by  scout- 
ing parties  or  shysters  in  the  rear,  who  might  torture 
you  wonderfully,  or  even  put  )'OU  to  death,  on  any  pre- 
text, as  that  you  were  a  prisoner,  violating  your  parole,  a 
spy,  or  something  of  that  sort ;  don't  you  see  that  you 
are  much  safer  here  with  us  ?  " 

"  I  will  take  my  chances  on  that,  Colone',"  replied 
Walter,  confidently,  as  he  perceived  that  he  was  gain- 
ing his  warm  side  ;  "give  me  my  liberty  now  by  your 
magnanimit}^  Colonel,  and  I  assure  you  I  will  only 
censure  m^'self  for  consequences.  I  will  guarantee, 
further,  that  I  will  see  the  Union  lines  or  death.  I 
will  never  ask  favors  of  any  other  man  holding  me  as 
captive. ' ' 

The  Colonel  seemed   buried  in  thought  fo^   a   few 


I 


SOME   OLD   ACOUAINTANCEvS.  289 

moments,  and  then  looking  up  at  Walter,  said.  "Well, 
then  go  ;  start." 

Walter  looked  at  the  Colonel  as  though  he  could 
scarcely  believe  his  own  ears.  He  began  stepping 
across  the  road,  looking  over  the  opposite  field,  when 
Clinton's  voice  arrested  him,  as  follows:  "Hold  on  a 
minute;  come  back  here." 

Walter  looked  at  him  earnestly  for  a  moment  with 
his  loaded  revolvers  by  his  side,  then  back  at  the 
guards  with  their  loaded  rifles,  then  across  the  fields, 
then  paused  for  another  moment,  the  Colonel  repeating 
in  an  undertone,  not  intending  the  men  to  hear,  "Come 
here  ;  I  am  not  through  with  3:011  yet.  Besides,  I 
must  have  more  time  to  refiect  over  this."  Walter 
advanced  toward  him,  saying,  "Why,  Colonel,  you 
certainly  were  in  earnest  when  you  spoke." 

"Yes,  I  was,  and  am  3^et.  I  want  to  do  something 
for  you,  but  I  must  have  a  little  time  to  consider. 
Give  me  a  little  time.  Besides,  I  have  something 
more  to  sa}'  to  )'OU.  How  are  all  my  cousins,  the 
Bernards,  anyhow?  I  believe  you  said  Mart,  never 
enlisted." 

"  No,  he  never  did." 

"Why  didn't  he." 

"  I  suppose  his  father  could  not  well  spare  him," 
replied  Walter. 

"  I  suppose  it  did  not  suit  your  father  to  spare  j'ou, 
either,'  did  it?"  asked  Clinton,  half  sarcasticall3\ 

"  Of  course,  he  could  have  made  use  of  me  if  I  had 
been  at  home." 

"  How  about  Morton,"  continued  Clinton,  "  Is  he  a 
strong  Union  man  ?     Did  his  son  enlist ! ' ' 

"Yes;  both  of  them." 

13 


290  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN, 

"What  !  that  little  young  fellow?  He  didn't  enlist, 
did  he?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Where  are  they  both  now?" 

"Well,  the  older  one  is  at  home  now.  There  is  part 
of  Harry's  brains,"  replied  Walter,  pointing  to  the 
stain  upon  his  pantaloons. 

"  What  !  what !  explain  yourself,"  cried  Clinton. 

"I  mean  that  he  was  shot  through  the  brain  ten 
minutes  before  you  captured  me,  and  that  I  tarried  a 
little  too  long  trying  to  drag  his  body  back  to  our  lines, 
when  you  forced  me  all  alone  to  surrender  in  a  ravine, 
and  there  is  part  of  the  brains  that  oozed  out  on  my 
pantaloons  while  I  was  making  the  effort  of  rescuing 
his  body," 

The  Colonel  looked  steadily  at  him  for  another  min- 
ute, and  then  a.sked,  "  And  is  that  how  you  came  to  be 
captured  ?" 

"It  is." 

Clinton  rested  his  head  upon  his  hand,  his  elbow 
upon  his  knee,  for  a  full  minute,  then  looking  up,  said, 
"Well,  there  are  some  things  that  can  be  done  best  in 
the  dark.  You  had  better  have  night  close  at  hand,  at 
least,  when  you  start.  Now  go  back  to  the  ranks  and 
keep  your  mouth  shut  until  your  dying  da}-,  if  this  war 
should  last  that  long,  and  don't  blame  me  if  you 
should  have  occasion  to  regret  your  course. 

"  Colonel,  if  I  interpret  your  words  aright,  you  have 
my  unutterable  thanks,"  said  Walter.  "  I  shall  obey 
your  instructions  implicitly,"  and  he  took  him  by  the 
hand,  bade  him  good- by  and  turned  to  go  back  to  the 
ranks. 

"Hold,  one  word  more,"  said  Clinton.     "Do  you 


SOME   OLD    ACQUAINTANCES.  291 

think  Miss  Reed  has  any  special  admirer  up  with 
you  ?" 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Have  you  some  opportunity  of  knowing  ?  Or  are 
you  in  love  with  her  yourself?"  asked  the  Colonel,  in 
all  seriousness. 

"I  have  some  opportunity  of  knowing  whereof  I 
speak,"  replied  Walter.  "As  for  myself,  I  assure  you, 
I  am  not  in  love  with  her,  though  I  half  thought  I  was 
one  afternoon,  long  ago.     I  honor  her,  however." 

' '  Well,  here  are  two  extra  hard  tacks  out  of  my  own 
supply,"  said  Clinton.  "  Now  go,  and  don't  speak  to 
me  or  look  at  me  again.     Good-by." 

"Good-by,"  said  Walter,  and  he  walked  back  to 
the  other  prisoners. 

All  afternoon,  as  they  marched  along,  it  would  have 
been  difficult  to  describe  the  conflicting  emotions  of  hope 
and  apprehension  that  passed  through  Walter's  mind. 
But  he  obe\^ed  his  instructions  to  the  letter,  neither 
speaking  nor  looking  towards  the  Colonel.  He  felt  cer- 
tain the  Colonel  had  some  friendly  purpose  in  his  mind, 
but  what  his  plan  of  action  was,  he  could  not  divine. 
About  half  an  hour  before  sunset,  they  were  marching 
b}'  a  heavy  piece  of  timber  to  their  right.  They  had 
just  ascended  a  little  knoll  and  were  descending  on  the 
other  side  when  a  corporal  of  the  guard  addressed  him, 
"  Hallo  !  there,  you  young  Lieutenant,  what  was  that 
you  found  back  there  in  the  road  ?" 

Walter  replied,  "Nothing,  sir." 

"  None  of  your  lying,  now%  nor  none  of  your  imper- 
tinence," said  the  corporal. 

Walter  looked  at  him  with  mingled  looks  of  con- 
jecture and  doubt,  replying,  "I  have  found  nothing 


292  WALTKR   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

and  have  given  no  impertinence  that  I  am  aware  of." 

"  Well,  hold  on  a  minute,  I'll  settle  this  matter,"  said 
the  Corporal,  as  he  walked  toward  the  Colonel,  saluted 
him,  and  held  some  conversation  with  him.  The 
Colonel  called  the  column  to  a  halt,  the  corporal 
walked  back  to  Walter:  "  Now,  3- on  come  with  me, 
3^oung  man,  I  will  let  3-011  know  what  3'ou  have  done." 

The  Colonel,  adding  his  word,  "  Lieutenant,  go  back 
with  the  Corporal,  and  be  a  little  careful  how  3^ou  con- 
duct 3'ourself  if  \'ou  don't  want  to  get  into  trouble." 
The  rest  of  the  prisoners  and  even  the  guards  looked  a 
little  bewildered,  the  former  having  mingled  expres- 
sions of  fear  and  wonder  in  their  countenances,  as 
Walter  and  the  corporal  walked  back  together,  the 
latter  assuming  to  look  for  something. 

After  the3'  had  gotten  over  the  hill,  about  fifty  yards, 
leaving  a  distance  of  probably  four  hundred  yards 
between  them  and  the  other  men,  and  thoroughly  out 
of  each  other's  sight,  the  corporal  stopped,  saying, 
"Now,  haven't  we  gone  far  enough  ?  The  Colonel  gave 
me  my  instructions ;  but  look  here,  have  3'ou  an3' 
mone3''  about  you  ? ' ' 

Walter,  though  he  felt  moralh-  certain,  as  the3^ 
walked  back  together,  that  the  Corporal  and  Colonel 
understood  each  other,  was  now  perfectl3'  astonished  at 
this  question,  and  managed  to  simpl3-  answer,  "Not 
much.''  "None  of  3-ourl3'ing,  now,"  said  the  corporal. 
"  You  Yanks  all  have  money  about  3'ou  ;  out  with  it, 
whatever  you  have,  or  I  won't  let  you  go."  "Did 
Colonel  Clinton  tell  3^ou  to  do  this  ? ' ' 

"None  of  3-our  business,"  exclaimed  the  corporal, 
"Colonel  has  put  this  business  in  my  hands.  He 
allows  me  to  make  the  best  deal  out  of  it  that  I  can. 


SOME   OLD   ACQUAINTANCES.  293 

Come,  don't  be  too  long,"  cocking  his  musket  and 
pointing  it  directly  at  Walter's  breast, 

"Well,  it  is  in  my  boot  lining,"  said  Walter,  as  he 
began  to  draw  off  his  boot,  saying,  ' '  you  won't  leave  me 
penniless,  will  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  let  you  keep  one  dollar  " 

"It  is  all  in  five-dollar  bills,"  said  Walter,  as  he 
began  to  hand  it  over;  "  you  will  certainl}^  let  me  keep 
one  bill  ?" 

"  Can't  afford  to  let  you  off  with  that  much,"  replied 
the  corporal.  "Here's  two  dollars  in  Confederate 
money  you  can  have.  That  will  buy  you  two  quarts 
of  corn  meal.  Come,  I  say  be  quick  or  I  will  put  this 
bullet  into  you  as  quick  as  I  would  shoot  a  dog." 

Walter  handed  over  the  ten  five-dollar  greenbacks, 
drew  on  his  boots,  and  took  from  the  corporal  his  two- 
dollar  Confederate  note. 

The  corporal  gave  him  another  scrutinizing  look, 
saying,  "Now,  are  you  acting  square  with  me?  Is 
that  all  the  money  you  have  got?  ' 

"  I  assure  you,  upon  the  honor  of  a  man  and  a  sol- 
dier, that  is  all  the  money  I  have.  Now,  will  you  act 
with  the  same  honor  to  me.  I  infer  the  Colonel  has 
intrusted  a  very  delicate  matter  to  you  now  Will 
you  carr}'  it  out  without  breaking  faith  with  me?" 

"Yes.  Now  get  over  in  the  woods.  I  will  give 
you  fifty  yards  start,  and  then  fire  so  as  to  hit  a  tree 
sufficiently  ta  your  left.  You  take  your  general  direc. 
tion  to  the  northwest.  That  will  keep  you  most  out 
of  the  way  of  our  army,  and  bring  you  within  reach  of 
the  nigger  huts  at  the  same  time  ;  they  will  feed  you. 
Good -by. " 

Walter   leaped  over  the  fence  with  a  bound,  struck 


294  WAIvTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

down  through  the  woods  like  a  deer,  heard  the  report 
of  the  musket  when  he  was  about  fifty  yards  away,  and 
the  bullet  whizz  to  his  left,  thought  a  thousand  things 
in  the  next  ten  seconds  as  he  grasped  his  hat  in  his 
hand  to  keep  from  losing  it  in  the  underbrush, 
increased  his  speed,  if  such  a  thing  was  possible  ;  heard 
the  loud  exclamations  of  the  corporal  behind  him,  as 
he  was  loading  for  a  second  fire,  felt  the  palpitation  oi 
his  heart  against  his  side  as,  he  said,  "  Now\  corporal, 
be  true  to  your  trust ;  now,  Clinton,  be  my  friend  and 
I  shall  never  forget  you  Now  for  freedom  ;  now  for  a 
sight  of  the  dear  old  flag  ;  now  for  the  hope  of  home 
once  more  ;  now  for  Blanch  ;  now  for  the  realization  of 
hopes  so  lately  buried  ;  now  for  my  faithful  legs,  oh, 
serve  me  now  !  Now,  oh  God,  be  on  my  side  for  a  few 
brief  minutes  while  I  strike  for  liberty  or  for  death." 
And  now  goes  the  second  report  of  a  rifle,  but  the  bul- 
let whizzed  safely  over  the  top  of  his  head,  while  the 
distance  between  them  is  too  far  for  a  third  one  to  do 
much  damage.  And  now  you  go  back  corporal,  raise 
the  alarm,  assume  your  indignation  with  Walter's 
money  in  your  pocket,  and  get  your  reprimand  from  the 
Colonel. 

Colonel,  read  more  rigid  orders  to  the  prisoners; 
declare  that  no  such  thing  shall  occur  again;  while  you, 
Walter,  press  on,  straight  on  with  your  own  strong 
legs  and  resolute  heart,  toward  the  "  flag  of  the  free, 
heart's  hope  and  home." 

And  he  did  press  on  through  woods  and  over  fields, 
through  streams  and  across  roads,  keeping  around 
mansion  houses,  looking  eagerly  for  negro  huts,  but 
keeping  his  general  direction  northw^est,  as  near  as  he 
could    determine,   until   he   thought   he   must   be   far 


SOME   OI.D   ACQUAINTANCES.  295 

enough  west  to  escape  the  enemy's  Hnes.  He  could 
bear  due  north  now.  He  stopped  long  enough  to  eat 
the  two  hard  tacks  the  Colonel  had  given  him  and 
single  out  the  north  star.  Yes,  that  little  shining  star 
should  be  the  "fire"  that  should  guide  him  on  his  way 
for  the  balance  of  the  night.  He  was  sure  that  he  had 
his  bearings  and  that  his  head  was  clear.  He  could 
get  safely  through  the  woods  immediatel}'^  before  him. 
He  enters  in,  an  hour  has  passed,  the  other  side  not 
reached ;  'tis  after  midnight.  The  stars  are  hid  in 
the  clouds.  His  brain  is  confused  ;  he  is  hopelessly 
lost ;  he  hears  the  baying  of  dogs  ;  he  is  seized  with 
terror  ;  he  clasps  tighter  his  club,  and  utters  the  words, 
"It  is  life  or  death  now,  let  come  what  will."  He 
gropes  a  little  further  ;  he  hears  a  running  brook  ;  he 
goes  toward  it,  steps  into  it,  puts  down  his  hand  to 
ascertain  which  way  the  current  is  flowing.  These  are 
all  tributaries  of  the  Rapidan.  He  reasoned  that  their 
natural  course  would  be  northeast.  He  would  follow 
it  for  awhile  ;  it  would  at  least  cause  the  dogs  to  lose 
the  scent,  if  it  was  he  whom  they  were  after.  He 
rejoiced  that  that  much  reason  was  left;  he  waded 
along  the  run  for  what  he  thought  at  least  a  mile.  It 
was,  however,  about  five  hundred  yards.  He  was  not 
certain,  at  times,  which  way  the  current  was  flowing. 
He  got  out  on  the  bank,  stood  still  for  a  moment,  and 
was  seized  with  a  feeling  that  gave  him  such  a  fright, 
such  a  desolate  feeling,  as  he  had  never  felt  before. 
*'  What  if  I  should  loose  my  reason  here  in  the  soli- 
tude >"  he  thought.  He  had  read  of  such  things. 
He  reached  around  with  his  stick  and  struck  the 
trunk  of  a  tree.  He  went  to  it,  sat  down  by  it,  rested 
his  body  against  it  and  welcomed  it  as  a  friend. 


296  WAI^TER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

What  a  glorious  thing  that  nature  solves  her  own 
problems  ;  what  a  fortunate  thing  that  she  cannot  be 
cheated  !  No  excitement,  however  great,  no  danger, 
however  imminent,  could  have  kept  Walter  Graham 
from  falling  asleep  as  he  reclined  against  that  tree. 
Exhaustion  had  overtaken  him.  No  booming  of  can- 
non, no  explosion  of  mines,  no  baying  of  dogs,  no 
pealirg  of  thunder,  no  falling  of  rain,  could  have  roused 
him  from  that  slumber,  so  thoroughly  did  sleep  take 
him  in  her  embrace,  '"knit  up  his  raveled  sleeve  of 
care,"  and  nourish  him  at  her  great  feast.  When  he 
awoke  the  sun  was  shining  brightly  in  his  face.  He 
really  felt  comparatively  refreshed,  except  that  the 
pangs  of  hunger  began  to  torture  him,  and  no  chance 
to  obtain  food.  He  looked  around,  saw  some  sassafras 
bushes  growing  in  a  thicket.  He  went  to  them  and 
began  eating  the  leaves  and  sprigs.  He  pulled  some 
up  by  the  roots,  took  them  to  the  run,  washed  them 
off  and  commenced  eating  them.  "If  Indians  have 
subsisted  on  roots,  why  not  I?"  he  thought.  He 
started  on  his  journey,  but  which  way  was  he  to  pro- 
ceed ?  The  sun  was  near  his  meridian.  He  was  not 
sure  which  direction  was  north,  he  would  walk  out  to 
the  edge  of  the  woods  which  he  now  saw  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  wait  until  he  would  sink  sufficientl}^  to 
give  him  his  bearings.  When  at  the  edge  of  the 
woods  he  saw  smoke  ascending  from  a  distant  hollow. 
It  curled  as  if  coming  from  a  chimney.  He  would 
take  his  club  in  his  hand,  march  straight  up  1 3  it  and 
demand  food.  "Beware  of  despair.  Beware  of  the 
man  driven  to  the  last  ditch,"  are  old  proverbs;  but 
above  all,  beware  of  the  man  suffering  the  pangs  of 
hunger. 


SOME   OLD   ACOUAINTANCE.S.  297 

As  lie  walked  across  the  cleared  field,  along  the  side 
of  a  small  piece  of  underbrush,  he  spied  a  colored  man 
in  United  States  uniform  darting  back.  He  called  on 
him  to  stop.  The  man  looked  considerably  frightened, 
stopped,  peeped  through  the  woods,  and  said,  "Are 
you  a  Union  soldier  ?  ' ' 

' '  Yes, ' '  cried  Walter  ;  ' '  are  you  one  ?  ' ' 

' '  How  did  you  get  here  ?  ' ' 

"  Lost  from  my  regiment,  sah,  jist  tryin'  to  get  back 
widout  bein'  tooken  by  be  rebs." 

' '  Do  you  know  the  wa}^  back  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  I's  'quainted  wid  dis  country  heah  ;  I's  seen 
dis  place  befoh." 

"How  did  you  get  lost  then,  if  you  know  the 
country  ? ' ' 

"Didn't  come  dis  wa}' ;  got  lost  'nother  direction; 
come  out  through  heah,  den  I  knows  whar  I  was." 

' '  Have  you  got  anything  to  eat  ?  ' ' 

"No,  sah;  mighty  hungry  though;  like  to  hab 
sumfin." 

"  Come  with  me,  I  will  get  you  something." 

"Hadn't  we  better  wait  till  night?"  replied  the 
negro  ;  I  know  dat  place  down  dah.  I's  kind  o'feard 
to  go  now.     When  night  comes  I  kin  git  some  grub." 

"  Come  on  now,"  said  Walter. 

The  colored  man  followed  him.  They  went  straight 
to  the  cabin  from  whence  the  smoke  had  ascended, 
knocked  at  the  door  to  have  it  opened  by  an  old  negro 
woman,  with  a  handkerchief  tied  over  her  head,  who 
exclaimed,  "  Sakes  alive,  didn't  I  tell  3'ou  to  stay  away 
till  dark,  den  I  bring  you  grub.  Heah  you  back  right 
in  broad  daylight  wid  a  white  Uinkum  sodjer  wid  you. 


298  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Go  'way,  go  'wa}^!  massa  catch  you  bofe  and  frash  me 
in  de  bargain  ;  go  'way,  go  'way!  " 

"We  want  something  to  eat  immediately,"  replied 
Walter.  "We  care  no  more  for  3^our  master  than  we 
do  for  a  mosquito.  I  will  strike  him  dead  the  minute 
he  crosses  this  door  to  interfere  with  us  or  you  either. ' ' 

"  Heah,  take  dis  quick  and  go,"  she  exclaimed, 
handing  them  a  piece  of  corn  bread  about  the  size  ot 
her  hand,  with  a  small  piece  of  bacon. 

Walter  sat  down  with  perfect  composure,  broke  it 
in  two,  handed  half  of  it  to  the  negro,  and  ate  the 
other  half  with  the  avidity  of  a  wolf,  saying,  "  Now, 
prepare  us  some  more,"  the  woman  still  exclaiming, 
"  For  sakes  alive  !  go,  'less  you're  armed  and  able  to 
take  massa,  else  he  takes  you,  sartain.  He  carries  his 
'wolvers  by  him  all  de  time,  now." 

"Give  us  some  more  food,"  said  Walter,  in  an 
unmoved  tone,  "  and  a  glass  of  water."         ■• 

The  old  woman  handed  them  out,  from  as  mall  box, 
a  piece  of  bran  bread  about  the  size  of  one's  fist,  say- 
ing, ' '  Dat  is  ever>'  blessed  ting  dere  is  in  dis  house  to 
eat  dis  minute.  Hain't  got  no  glass  ;  heah's  de  best 
I  kin  do  foil  you,"  handing  them  a  gourd  full  of 
water,  that  she  had  dipped  from  a  bucket,  "but,  for 
sakes  alive,  go  !" 

"Would  you  like  to  go  with  us?"  asked  Walter, 
with  perfect  serenity,  as  he  took  a  diink  out  of  the 
gourd,  passed  it  on  to  the  negro,  and  ate  composedly 
at  his  half  of  the  bread. 

"No,  no;  not  necessary  for  me  to  go  now  at  my 
age,"  cried  the  old  woman.  "  De  men  have  pretty 
much  all  gone  ;  I  kin  wait  till  its  all  ober;  I  sees  now 
de  Ivinkum  sogers  bound  to  win  de  day." 


SOME   OLD    ACQUAINTANCES.  299 

The  two  Union  soldiers  of  two  distinct  races  finished 
their  crust,  arose,  left  their  blessings  with  the  old 
negro,  and  w^alked  unconcernedly  over  the  hill,  and 
down  a  path  that  led  out  to  the  public  road,  at  which 
place,  as  they  turned  b}-  a  little  grove,  the  negro 
exclaimed,  "Good  Hebens  !  dah  is  de  old  massa  got 
rebel  clo'es  on,  and  dead  armed  at  dat." 

As  quick  as  thought  Walter  turned  upon  him, 
saying,  "  When  he  comes  up,  you  do  whatever  I  tell 
you,  and  let  me  do  the  talking." 

They  met  face  to  face  at  the  junction  of  the  road. 
Walter's  first  thought  was  that  the  man  would  be  as 
much  frightened  at  them  as  they  were  at  him.  But  as 
the}'  approached  each  other,  he  looked  into  his  burly 
face,  at  his  two  revolvers,  and  concluded  that  he  was 
not  the  kind  of  a  fellow  who  scared  at  trifles,  and  he 
wisely  changed  his  plan  of  action.  In  answer  to  the 
man's  salutation,  "Halt!  where  are  you  going?" 
Walter  replied,  "  Hunting  our  way  back  to  the  Union 
arm)',  sir." 

"  How  come  3'ou  to  be:  here  ?" 

' '  I  was  temporaril}^  taken  prisoner,  and  am  now  try- 
ing to  find  m}'  way  back  to  my  regiment.  This  man 
has  got  lost  from  his,  and  is  doing  the  same  thing. 
We  are  both  regular  Union  soldiers." 

"Well,  I  believe  5'ou  are  both  a  couple  of  northern 
spies,  been  up  interfering  with  my  niggers.  I  wouldn't 
stop  much  to  shoot  you  both." 

"I  assure  you,  sir,  we  are  a  couple  of  defenceless, 
unarmed  men,  and  I  know  that  you  are  too  brave  a 
man  to  shoot  us  down  in  that  condition,"  said  Walter, 
with  a  steady  look  at  the  man,  that  seemed  to  make  an 
impression  on  him.     After  a  moment's  pause,  the  man 


300  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

replied,  "Well,  I  will  hold  you  both  prisoners,  and 
send  you  back  to  our  armj-  as  such  anyhow,  and  I 
want  to  be  sure  first  that  neither  of  you  is  armed.  I 
don't  trust  a  Yankee  on  his  word,  mind  that." 

' '  You  certainl}^  have  it  in  your  power  to  do  with  us 
what  you  please,"  replied  Walter.  "You  can  satisfy 
yourself  by  any  means  that  you  desire,  that  we  are 
without  arms.  All  we  do  ask  is,  that  w^e  shall  be 
treated  with  the  respect  due  to  prisoners  of  war. ' ' 

"We  don't  consider  that  spies  and  nigger  soldiers 
are  entitled  to  very  much  consideration  at  our  hands, 
but  I  will  try  to  examine  about  your  arms.  Now, 
Yank,  j-ou  drop  that  stick.  Now,  nigger,  you  lie 
down  on  the  ground,  face  downward." 

The  colored  man,  trembling  from  head  to  foot,  did 
as  he  w^as  told,  Walter  having  dropped  the  stick  and 
telling  the  colored  man  to  do  as  he  was  commanded. 

The  white  man,  then  keeping  a  steady  eye  on 
Walter,  and  his  hand  on  one  of  his  revolvers,  dis- 
mounted, advanced,  searched  him  until  he  was  thor- 
oughly convinced  that  he  had  no  weapon  of  any  kind 
about  him,  then  stepped  towards  the  negro  for  the 
same  purpose.  But  quick  as  he  turned  his  eye,  Walter 
struck  him  an  almost  superhuman  blow  on  the  side  of 
the  head  with  his  fist,  which  felled  him  senseless  to  the 
ground ;  springing  upon  his  head,  he  cried  to  the 
colored  man,  "  Take  his  arms,  take  his  arms!  " 

The  colored  soldier,  recovering  from  his  fright,  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  both  of  his  revolvers  from  him. 
Meanwhile  the  white  man  sufiiciently  recovered  to  let 
out  some  unearthly  yells,  and  kick  and  struggle  fero- 
ciously, but  Walter  held  him  to  the  ground  as  if  in  a 


SOME   OLD   ACQUAINTANCES.  301 

vice,    the   colored   man    exclaiming,    "Shall    I   shoot 
him  ?  Shall  I  shoot  hira  ?  " 

"No,  no,  no!"  shouted  Walter,  then  choking  him 
almost  into  silence,  said,  "Now  stop  your  halloing,  or 
I  will  shoot  you." 

The  man  became  perfectly  quiet.  Walter  ordered 
the  negro  to  hand  him  one  of  the  revolvers  ;  then 
pointing  it  directly  in  the  man's  face,  said,  "  Now  get 
up ;  but  don't  move  a  muscle  or  speak  a  word  without 
my  consent,  or  you  shall  die  that  instant." 

The  man  arose,  stood  perfectly  mute,  Walter  still 
holding  the  revolver  steadily  before  him,  said  to  the 
colored  man,  "Catch  that  horse;  bring  the  hitching 
strap  here  ;  tie  those  hands  thoroughl3^  Now  bring 
him  down  here  into  the  woods." 

This  being  done,  they  tied  him  to  a  sapling,  asked 
him  if  he  w^as  in  a  comfortable  position,  to  which  he 
replied  that  his  left  wrist  was  hurting  him.  Walter 
adjusted  it  with  his  handkerchief  in  the  operation, 
tying  him  thoroughly  enough,  however,  to  hold  him 
for  a  half  hour,  turned  away,  leading  the  horse  toward 
the  road,  and  said  to  the  negro,  "  Are  you  sure  that 
3'ou  know  the  roads  in  this  countr}'^.'" 

"  Yes,  sah," 

"  Does  this  one  go  toward  the  Rapidan  river?" 

"Yes,  sail;  I  know  it  does." 

"Jump  on  this  horse  then  behind  me.  We  shall 
not  stop  until  we  see  the  Rapidan  or  the  Union  army." 

They  galloped  along  as  fast  as  the  strength  of  their 
horse  would  admit  for  an  hour  and  a-half,  when  he 
began  to  show  signs  of  exhaustion . 

"We'd  better  get  off  dis  old  crowbait  and  take  to 


302  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

our  legs,"  said  the  colored  man,  who  was  pretty  well 
shaken  up  by  this  time. 

"I  believe  3'ou  are  more  than  half  right,"  replied 
Walter,  jumping  off,  saying,  "  N©,  you  get  in  the  sad- 
dle and  go  on  ahead  slowly  ;  maybe  he  can  carry  us, 
one  at  a  time,  for  awhile  " 

They  proceeded  about  a  mile,  Walter  following  close 
upon  his  heels,  when  the  colored  man  stopped  and 
said,  "  Dast  if  I  knows  'zactly  which  road  to  take 
heah  ;  let  me  study  a  bit." 

"Be  sure  you  are  right  now,"  said  Walter;  "I 
have  been  depending  on  you.  How  did  you  come  to 
know  the  roads  down  here,  anyhow  ?  " 

"Oh  !  dis  my  ole  country  down  heah.  I  knowed 
dat  ole  wood  soon  as  I  seed  it." 

"  Did  you  live  down  here  ?  Were  you  a  slave  ?  " 

' '  Yes,  sail  ;  good  long  while,  ago  doh  ;  my  old  massa 
lib  not  berr}'  far  from  where  we  were  fust." 

"  I  do  not  exactly  understand  your  case  How  did 
you  come  to  be  here,  anyhow?  " 

"I  tells  you  nothin'  mo'  boss;  I  knows  my  own 
business  ;  I  be  friend  of  you,  though;  I  git  you  to  de 
ribber." 

Walter  looked  at  him  as  if  he  saw^  some  hidden 
secret  in  his  crude  mind,  not  heretofore  noticed,  and 
replied,  "  Well,  if  j^ou  can  get  me  safe  to  the  Rapidan 
river,  or  better  still,  inside  of  our  own  lines,  I  will  con- 
sider you  my  benefactor  and  ask  no  questions." 

"I  will  git  you  safe  'round  the  Johnnies.  I  show 
you  de  road  ;  I  know  what  it  is  to  be  lost  and  hunt  de 
right  road  when  a  fellow  is  strikin'  foil  liberty." 

"  Did  you  just  escape  from  your  master  before  you 
enlisted  ? " 


SOME   OLD    ACQUAINTANCES.  303 

"No,  no;  I's  been  up  in  Canada  long  time,  long 
time." 

"  How  came  you  to  come  down  here  to  enlist  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  come  down  soon  as  I  heard  you  was  goin'  to 
give  our  people  free ;  I  said  I  was  comin'  back  to  help 
fight  for  de  old  starry  banner  now." 

' '  How  did  you  ever  find  the  road  away  up  to  Canada 
from  here  ? ' ' 

"On  de  underground  railroad,  but  I  tells  you 
nothin'.     I  used  to  get  lost  though." 

' '  How  would  you  get  on  the  right  track  again  ? ' ' 

"  Oh,  jes'  do  de  best  I  could  ;  jest  like  you  hab  to 
now.  I  was  almos'  afraid  to  ax  anybod}' ;  only  once  I 
axed  two  small  boys.  I  thought  dey  was  too  little  to 
'spect  much,  'sides  they  both  putty  good  lookin'  boys 
in  de  face,  so  I  risked  it." 

' '  Did  they  tell  you  the  road  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes,  dey  put  me  on  de  right  track." 

"  What  were  the  boys  doing  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dat  my  business,  boss  ;  'scuse  me,  but  dat  my 
business." 

"Were  they  in  the  road  or  in  the  field  ?  " 

The  negro  looked  suspicious,  and  said,  "  I  git  you 
your  freedom  ;  dat  all  3'ou  need  know." 

"The  boys  were  walking  up  a  meadow  bottom  by  a 
creek,  near  the  side  of  a  wood,  were  they  not  ? " 

The  colored  soldier  looked  both  frightened  and 
astonished,  as  he  shook  his  head,  and  said,  "Nothin' 
moh  to  say;  nothin'  moh  to  say." 

"Why,  what  are  you  afraid  of.?"  said  Walter; 
"don't  you  know  you  are  a  free  man  now?  and  that 
the  government  is  bound  to  defend  you  as  one  of  her 


304  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

own  soldiers,  and  bring  you  back  if  you  should  be  cap- 
tured ?  " 

' '  Yes  ;  but,  den  I  rather  not 1 — I — . ' ' 

"  It  was  about  dusk  in  the  evening  when  you  inquired 
the  road  of  the  boys,  was  it  not?  "  interrupted  Walter. 
"The  boys  were  out  setting  traps,  were  they  not?  " 

"Hard  to  tell  what  time  it  might  been,"  was  the 
reply. 

"I  think,  if  you  will  try  to  remember,"  continued 
Walter,  "it  was  about  dusk  in  the  evening.  There 
was  a  little  snow  on  the  ground,  and  you  asked  the 
way  to  Martin's  cross  roads,  and  then  to  John  William- 
son's, after  you  had  handed  them  a  note  to  read." 

The  colored  man,  opening  his  eyes  like  moons,  said, 
"  lyooky  here!  somebody  has  been  tellin'  you  some- 
thing." 

"  I  assure  you  the  boys  never  told  me." 

"Isdat  so?" 

"  Did  you  ever  tell  it" 

"  No  ;  sah,  no,  sail. 

"How,  then,  do  you  suppose  I  could  have  gotten 
the  information  ?  ' ' 

"  Don't  know,  don't  know,  'less  de  boys  told  some- 
body, an'  dat  fellow  told  you." 

"No,  sir;  I  never  got  the  information  in  that 
way." 

"Well,  sah,  dat  gits  me,  dat  gits  me." 

"  Well,  suppose  I  was  one  of  the  boys  myself;  don't 
3'ou  suppose  I  would  know  it  ?" 

The  negro's  eyes  sparkled,  his  mouth  opened  to 
space  running  well  into  the  inches,  jumped  off  the 
horse,  and  exclaimed,  "Lord,  Heavens  above,  and 
great  glory!  are  j'ou  one  ob  de  boys?     Well,  sah,  you 


SOME    OLD    ACQUAINTANCES.  305 

nebber  know  how  things  turn  up.  You  git  'stride  o' 
dis  hoss.  I  walk  de  balance  of  de  way  from  dis  out. 
What  has  become  ob  de  tother  boy  ?" 

' '  The  other  boy  also  enlisted  in  our  army.  He  \Yas 
wounded  at  Gettysburg  so  badly  last  summer  that  he 
is  unable  to  soldier  any  more.     He  is  lamed  for  life." 

"  Lord,  bless  my  soul  alive  !  'member  me  to  him 
when  you  see  him.  How  queer  things  do  turn  out. 
You  git  on  dat  hoss,  boss ;  I  walk  all  de  balance  ob 
de  wa5\  I  show  you  de  far  side  of  de  river  or  de 
Union  army  before  mornin'.  You  see  one  good  turn 
deserves  another 

Walter  got  into  the  saddle,  thinking  to  him.self, 
"Yes,  it  is  a  little  strange  how  things  turn  out,  but 
then — 

See  how  far  the  little  candle  throws  its  beams." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


SOMETHING  DROPS. 


"  What  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in  June  ?  " — Loivell. 

"The  night  has  been  nnruly  ;  *     *     * 
*****     And,  as  the}'  say, 

Lamentings  heard  i'  the  air  ;  strange  screams  of  death; 
And  prophesying,  with  accents  terrible, 
Of  dire  combustion  and  confused  events, 
New  hatch 'd  to  the  woful  time." — Shakespeare. 

IT  would  be  useless  to  follow  Walter  and  his  colored 
guide  through  all  their  evolutions  and  windings  in 
reaching  the  Union  army,  so  I  say  briefly  that  in  course 
of  time  they  reached  it.  Not,  however,  as  soon  as 
they  anticipated,  for  they  were  like  the  man  who  was 
opening  his  first  furrow  across  the  prairie,  and  took  a 
calf  grazing  on  the  opposite  side  for  his  mark,  and  found 
when  he  had  reached  his  objective  point  that  his  fur- 
row was  very  zigzag,  and,  taken  altogether,  quite  cir- 
cuitous, as  his  stopping  place  was  very  near  the  place 
from  whence  he  had  started.''^  As  this  remarkable 
feat  in  ploughmanship  can  be  naturally  accounted  for, 
the  fact  that  the  object  for  which  he  was  steering 
was  endowed  with  the  qualities  of  mobility,  con- 
stantly changed  its  position  ;  so  on  this  occasion  the 
object  of  these  two  men's  search  and  of  their  hearts' 
desire,  was  far  from  being  stationar>\  With  remark- 
able perplexity,  wherever  they  went  the  Arnn^  of  the 


*Oue  of  Abraham  Lincoln's  anecdotes. 


SOMETHING   DROPS.  307 

Potomac,  and  especially  their  particular  regiments,  had 
just  gone  some  place  else. 

And  thus  it  was,  that  fully  twelve  days  had  elapsed 
from  the  time  he  was  captured  until  Walter  was 
actually  back  with  his  own  company  and  regiment. 
The  boys  welcomed  him  as  one  they  had  given  up  for 
lost.  They  had  witnessed  his  steady  hand  at  the  head 
of  his  company  all  through  the  conflict,  and  his  brave 
attempt  to  save  the  body  of  a  friend.  It  was  unani- 
mously agreed  that  he  deserved  to  be  promoted  to  a 
captaincy,  which  was  soon  done.  The  bringing  of  the 
horse  back  into  camp,  which  Walter  and  the  negro 
had  concluded  after  all  they  had  better  hold  on  to,  told 
in  its  own  language  that  some  exploit  had  been  per- 
formed, but  all  the  explanation  Walter  gave  about  it 
was  simply  that  he  had  made  his  escape,  and  the}^  had 
captured  the  horse. 

The  news  that  greeted  him  upon  this  return  was  not 
all,  however,  an  unbroken  stream  of  joy.  Dave  Miller 
had  just  left  on  a  short  permit  in  search  of  the  One 
Hundred  and  Seventeenth,  to  learn  what  truth  there 
was  in  the  report  that  his  brother  Joe  had  just  been 
killed  at  Spottsylvania.  Used  as  he  had  now  become 
to  scenes  of  death  and  carnage,  he  was  affected  more 
than  would  have  been  supposed,  by  the  news  that  he 
had  merely  exchanged  places  with  Henry  Kerr.  That 
his  friend  now,  instead  of  himself,  was  most  likely 
securely  lodged  in  some  Southern  prison.  Yes,  he 
was  in  lyibby,  afterwards  removed  to  Andersonville. 
Not  so  fortunate  as  yourself,  Walter.  He  is  destined 
never  to  see  the  flag  of  his  country  again,  or  hear 
the  tramp  of  the  Union  army ;  doomed  to  languish 
away,  to  suffer  with  hunger,  to  burn  with  fever,  to  die 


308  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

unattended,  to  be  buried  unknown  to  either  mother  or 
father,  sister  or  brother. 

Yes,  the  thought  of  this  shed  considerable  gloom 
over  all  the  boys  who  had  come  to  honor  the  Major 
for  his  sterling  qualities.  But  to  Walter,  who  val- 
ued him  as  a  dear  friend,  whose  honor,  integrity, 
patriotism,  courage  and  exemplary  character  he 
believed  had  been  transcended  by  no  man  who  had 
enlisted  in  defense  of  the  Union,  it  fell  like  a  heavy 
blow.  He  felt  half  mean  at  times  when  he  thought  of 
his  own  better  fortunes;  and,  although  he  knew  that 
his  own  capture  and  escape  had  naught  to  do  with 
Henry's  fate,  he  would  think  to  himself,  "  How  disap- 
pointed he  will  be  when  he  gets  to  Andersonville  and 
finds  that  I  am  not  there.  Maybe,  I  should  have  staid; 
we  might  have  been  some  comfort  to  each  other.  I  am 
sure,  if  I  was  there  now,  and  Clinton  was  to  lay  my 
libert}'  at  my  feet,  I  would  not  accept  it  without  his 
being  included  with  it." 

But  I  am  digressing.  Tired  and  weary,  as  Walter  was 
that  afternoon  when  he  reached  his  camp,  much  as  he 
longed  to  stretch  out  surrounded  by  his  old  comrades 
and  take  a  long  refreshing  sleep,  he  first  provided 
paper,  envelopes  and  lead  pencil,  and  wrote  two  letters: 
one  to  his  mother,  the  other  to  Blanch  Morton.  The 
one  penned  for  Blanch  was  as  follows  : 

In  Camp,  Army  of  the  Potomac,  near     \ 
Spottsylvania,  June  i6,  1864.  i 

Mi.ss  Blanch  Morton  : 

3ry  Bear  Friend: — I  embrace  this,  the  earliest  possible  oppor- 
tunity I  have  had  to  write  you  a  single  line  in  reference  to 
Harry.  I  can  say  only  what  you  already  know,  that  I  made 
out  very  poorly  in  doing  much  for  him.  Take  to  yourself,  how- 
ever, Blanch,  the  melancholy  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  the 


SOMETHING   DROPS.  309 

quality  of  which  your  own -noble  virtue  spoke  as  being  more 
precious  than  life  was  untarnished.  Yes,  Harry's  military 
career  was  short,  and  his  death  a  stunning  blow  to  you,  but  his 
honor  is  quite  safe.  It  is  useless  to  go  into  detail.  Further  on 
I  may  have  the  satisfaction  of  writing  or  teling  it  all  to  you 
more  full}'.  You  may,  perhaps,  have  heard  the  cause  of  my 
delav  in  writing.  It  is  only  necessary  now  to  say  that  I  am 
again  in  camp  with  my  regiment,  safe  and  all  right.  Remember 
me  to  all  the  familv.  Yours  verv  truly, 

Walter  Graham. 

He  sealed  these  letters,  endorsed  them,  gave  them 
to  Jack  Matson,  who  promised  him  to  start  them  by 
the  first  mail  that  left  camp,  if  that  should  be  before 
he  awoke,  and  then  stretched  himself  out  for  a  long 
sleep.  He  aroused  about  sunset  to  come  and  partake 
of  a  good  supper  of  fried  hard  tack,  bacon  and  coffee, 
before  they  broke  camp,  as  their  orders  were  to  be 
ready  to  march  wdth  three  days'  rations  in  half  an 
hour.  At  ten  o'clock  they  halted  again  and  slept  on 
their  arms  until  morning,  when  Walter  was  aroused  by 
Dave  Miller,  who  came  to  speak  to  him  and  tell  him 
that  the  news  about  Joe  were  only  too  trtte. 

"  Did  he  suffer  much?  "  asked  Walter. 

"Severe  enough  for  the  time,  I  understood,"  replied 
Dave,  "  though,  fortunately,  not  long.  He  died  in  half 
an  hour  from  the  time  he  was  shot. ' ' 

"Dave,  what  is  becoming  of  us,  anyhow?  and  the 
boys  and  young  men  that  were  around  Shocktown 
when  we  were  boys  there  ?  I  remember  when  I  used  to 
sit  and  listen  to  men  of  fifty  or  upwards  tell  abotit  their 
experiences  of  boyhood  and  the  companions  of  their 
youth  ;  now  they  were  .scattered  or  dead.  What  old 
men  it  seemed  to  me  they  were.  And  now  it  seems  to 
me  I  have  lived  a  hundred  years  myself,  though  I  am 


310  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

confronted  by  the  fact  that  I  am  only  twenty-one.  And 
you,  whom  I  used  to  look  upon  as  one  of  the  '  big '  boys 
at  school,  are  after  all  only  twenty-four." 

"  Yes,  yes,  Walt.,  it  is  astonishing.  What  a  glorious 
thing,  however,  that  we  did  not  know  the  future.  L,et 
us  see  how  many  of  them  have  been  actually  killed  or 
died  by  reason  of  the  war.  Of  course,  there  were 
several  other  people  around  the  neighborhood  that  we 
knew  more  or  less  remotely,  but  I  am  speaking  of  the 
boys  who  either  went  to  the  old  public  school  or  to  the 
academy  ;  they  are  Frank  Swave,  Bill  Boyle,  Bob 
Long,  and  now,  poor  Joe." 

The  last  word  he  uttered  with  a  sob,  to  which  Wal- 
ter responded  in  a  sympathetic  tone,  saying,  "  And  do 
you  know,  Dave,  I  have  a  painful  feeling  that  we  will 
yet  add  to  that  list  Henry  Kerr." 

"Yes,"  said  Dave,  "  and  then,  think,  the  end  is  not 
yet." 

"  Yes,  I  almost  censured  myself  for  saying  that  very 
thing  to  your  mother,"  replied  Walter,  "when  I  was 
home,  when  she  spoke  of  how  fortunate  her  three  boys 
had  been  up  to  that  time. ' ' 

' '  Walter,  do  you  know,  before  I  woke  you  I  was 
just  thinking  of  another  thing.  Do  you  remember 
when  we  first  laj'  down  in  camp  that  night  in  old  Ken- 
tucky how  Mr.  Wagner  and  Mr.  Flora,  your  two  old 
school  teachers,  Henry  Kerr  and  I,  all  took  you  in  the 
tent  with  us  to  take  a  kind  of  fatherly  care  of  you,  and 
now  if  I  live  a  little  longer  I  will  be  home  by  expira- 
tion of  my  term  ;  Henry  Kerr  in  prison  ;  Wagner  and 
Flora  already  at  home  on  honorable  discharges.  It 
looks  indeed  as  though  the  boy  we  were  to  care  for  will 
be  the  last  man  of  the  five  on  the  rolls." 


SOMETHING    DROPS.  311 

Walter  looked  at  him  thoughtfully,  nodded  his  head 
assentingly,  but  uttered  no  word,  while  Dave  con- 
tinued, "  Walt.,  do  you  know  you  have  a  right  to  feel 
proud  of  yourself?  The  place  you  have  reached  at 
5'our  age  exceeds  almost  any  other  case  we  know  of 
except  your  old  friend  Tom  Swave,  who  has  been  com- 
pelled to  stop  while  you  still  go  on.  I  can  tell  by  the 
letters  from  home  how  you  were  honored  by  the  whole 
neighborhood  when  you  were  there." 

"  Here  is  a  letter  I  have  from  Beckie,  written  before 
they  heard  of  Joe's  death.  She  says  that  all  the 
neighbors  around  felt  so  sorry  when  they  heard  that 
you  had  been  taken  prisoner.  Your  sister  Mary,  it 
appears,  was  over  at  our  place  the  day  she  wrote  it. 
She  has  added  a  few  lines,  thanking  me  for  the  interest 
we  took  in  you." 

"  Well,  Dave,  I  thank  you  all  for  all  the  kindness 
you  have  shown  me.  I  do  not  know  to  what  particular 
things  Mary  alludes,  but  I  knew  one  thing,  from  her 
honest,  unsophisticated  and  unsuspecting  nature,  there 
comes  no  hypocrisy.  I  will  endorse  everything  she 
says." 

"Just  so,"  replied  Dave;  "she  is  one  of  the  most 
sincere  girls,  with  a  good  streak  of  humor  in  her  after 
all.  Oh  !  the  things  she  alludes  to  here  in  the  letter  are 
simply  nothing,"  handing  the  letter  over  to  Walter. 
"  You  see.  Jack,  Tom,  Jake  and  myself,  all  joined  in  a 
letter  to  your  parents  after  you  were  captured.  We 
extolled  your  gallant  conduct,  and  presented  a  bright 
side  to  the  case,  saying,  that  we  had  every  reason  to 
think  you  would  live  to  come  back  all  right,  I  also 
wrote  a  letter  to  Will.  Morton  in  the  same  strain,  in 
which    I  explained  to  him   all  about  your  rash   but 


312  WAI^TER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

heroic  effort  to  save  his  brother's  body."  Hark!  the 
bugle  sounds,  the  drum  beats.  "  Fall  in,  men,  lively,'" 
are  the  next  words  that  ring  along  the  ranks.  Dave 
Miller,  who  has  now  himself  become  second  lieutenant, 
springs  to  his  feet  and  is  busied  in  the  movements. 

This  was  the  abrupt  ending  of  their  conversation. 
All  is  now  activit}',  but  the  movements  are  orderly. 
In  five  minutes  the  regiment  is  on  the  march,  the 
men  taking  snatches  of  breakfast,  as  best  they  can, 
from  their  haversacks.  Such  was  the  unceasing  vigi- 
lance, the  untiring  energy,  with  which  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  was  kept  attacking  and  assaulting,  besieging 
and  battering  away  at  their  enemy  during  the  summer 
of  1864.  No  word  painter  could  describe  it  better 
th  in  the  simple  utterance  of  an  old  soldier  who  passed 
through,  it  when  he  said.  "I  can  declare  truthfully 
before  God  and  man  that  for  thirty  days  I  didn't  have 
time  to  cook  myself  a  cup  of  coffee." 

Young  folks,  who  may  chance  read  these  pages,  do 
not  get  your  heads  bemuddled  or  your  imaginations 
wrought  too  high  about  the  enormous  campaigns  or 
the  gigantic  feats  that  have  been  performed  in  ancient 
times  as  exceeding  anything  in  history,  simply  because 
it  is  so  written  in  a  few  text  books  and  believed  by 
some  teachers  and  professors,  who  see  them  through  the 
magnif3'ing  medium  of  distance,  but  stop  and  exam- 
ine whether  there  is  a  military  campaign  in  the  whole 
list,  from  INIarathon  to  Waterloo,  that  cost  a  greater  per 
cent,  of  life  or  was  more  stubbornly  contested  on  the  one 
or  the  other  side  than  the  one  fought  out  by  the  two 
American  armies  on  the  .soil  of  old  Virginia,  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1864.  Well  may  the  sententious  utterance,  "  I 
will  fight  it  out  on  this  line  if  it  takes  all  summer, ' '  have 


SOMETHING    DROPS.  313 

emanated  from  the  commander  of  the  invading  forces. 
Why  should  we  have  any  difficulty  in  comprehending 
the  magnitude  of  the  sacrifice  of  life  on  both  sides  of 
that  campaign,  after  General  Grant  had  made  up  his 
mind  that  he  would  suppress  the  rebellion  if  he  had 
to  do  it  by  mere  attrition  ?  The  whole  series  of  drawn 
battles  in  such  rapid  and  quick  succession,  from  Wil- 
derness to  Cold  Harbor,  and  indeed  from  thence  on  to 
Appomattox,  was  but  the  execution  of  that  purpose. 
That  any  other  man  could  have  conquered  by  the 
same  method  is  easil}-  asserted.  The  admirers  of  Gen- 
eral Grant  are  content,  perhaps,  to  answer  that  he, 
however,  was  the  only  man  that  did  do  it.  The  wis- 
dom of  his  plan  may  be  the  subject  of  criticism  for  a 
long  time,  but  here  again  his  friends  are  not  without 
argument,  for  certainly  the  annual  retreats  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  the  preceding  summers,  the 
invasions  of  the  North  which  the  Confederates  were 
enabled  to  make  by  reason  of  their  stratagems  and  the 
temporary  relaxing  of  the  efforts  of  the  Unionists,  the 
fresh  starts  that  it  was  constantly  requiring  on  the  part 
of  the  North,  the  great  battles  that  were  being  fought 
only  at  longer  intervals,  all  gave  plausibility  to  the 
theory  that  it  was  really  less  sacrifice  of  life  in  the  end 
to  just  pounce  down  upon  your  enemy  and  hammer 
away  at  him  until  he  is  exhausted,  than  to  encourage 
him  by  dragging  the  contest  out  so  long,  especially  if 
you  have  discovered  that  you  have  a  foe  that  will 
yield  by  no  other  method.  For  certain  it  is,  from  the 
morning  General  Grant  crossed  the  Rapidan  and 
opened  his  campaign  in  the  Wilderness,  General  Lee 
was  thoroughly  engaged.  He  never  again  saw  the 
time  when  he  had  leisure  to  take  his  army  on  an 
14 


314  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

excursion  north  of  the  Potomac.  There  is,  indeed, 
reason  to  believe  that  from  that  moment  on  he  knew 
he  was  crushed.  But  it  may  be  asked,  on  the  other 
hand,  why  should  I  argue  this  question  now  for 
General  Grant  since  he,  with  characteristic  modesty 
and  honesty  admits  in  his  own  memoirs  that  the  attack 
upon  Cold  Harbor  and  one  of  the  assaults  upon  the 
ramparts  at  Vicksburg  he  always  regretted,  as  they 
were  attended  with  no  loss  to  the  enemy  adequate  to 
the  sacrifices  in  his  own  ranks. 

But  behold  again  I  have  been  digressing.  Indeed, 
if  some  good  friend  will  give  me  a  thousand  dollars  for 
every  digression  I  have  made,  I  will  give  him  the 
copyright  to  my  book.  But  thus  it  is  you  can  easily 
see  how,  through  all  this  confusion  of  the  army,  Wal- 
ter's letters  did  not  get  started  for  several  days.  It  is 
not  beyond  the  bounds  of  imagination  to  understand 
that  even  after  they  did  start  they  met  with  other 
aggravating  detentions.  In  fact,  it  is  not  impossible 
to  believe  that  a  letter  written  by  Jake  Boyle  to  his 
folks  a  few  days  later  reached  Shocktown  first.  It 
contained  the  brief  news,  written  in  great  haste,  that 
"  Walter  Graham  had  been  back  in  camp  for  over  a 
week  ;  that  he  was  captain  now  ;  that  he  had  made 
his  escape  from  the  rebels,  had  captured  an  officer's 
horse,  rescued  a  nigger,  and  came  riding  into  camp  as 
large  as  life." 

This  news  caused  great  rejoicing  at  Graham's, 
though  Mrs.  Graham  was  almost  afraid  to  place  con- 
fidence in  anything,  especially  as  Walter  had  not  writ- 
ten a  line  himself.  She  knew  he  would  not  keep 
them  in  suspense  a  moment  longer  than  was  necessary. 
But  Jacob  and  Tom  Swave  both  explained  to  her  that 


SOMETHING    DROPS.  315 

there  were  a  thousand  and  one  ways  in  which  a  letter 
written  subsequently  to  Walter's  might  reach  home 
first,  and  certainly  Jake  could  not  have  imagined  this. 
"True,  all  true,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  "and  yet  I  will 
not  be  entirely  at  ease  until  I  hear  from  Walter  himself. 
In  fact,  not  even  then,  for  even  since  Jake's  letter  was 
dated  there  has  been  time  for  the  whole  army  to  be 
annihilated  three  times." 

And  thus  she  lived  on  for  two  more  days,  between 
hope  and  fear,  until  Joe  came  home  from  the  office, 
laying  before  her  two  letters  endorsed  in  Walter's  own 
hand.  The  one  she  opened  first  was  dated  two  days 
later  than  Jake's,  and  confirmed  what  he  had  written, 
and  made  allusions  to  what  he  had  said  in  the  one  he 
wrote  her  the  day  he  got  back  to  his  regiment.  She 
then  opened  the  other  to  find  that  she  had  only  the 
fulfillment  of  the  prophecy  that  ' '  the  first  shall  be  last, 
and  the  last  shall  be  first." 

Tom  Swave,  who  was  helping  his  father  at  times 
about  the  store,  noticed  these  two  letters  as  he  changed 
the  mail,  and  followed  Joe  in  ten  minutes  over  to  the 
Graham  home.  They  were  scarcely  done  reading  them 
when  he  came  limping  in.  He  was  informed  of  their 
contents  and  there  was  a  general  rejoicing.  The  Gra- 
hams proceeded  cheerfully  to  their  dinner,  and  Tom,  the 
same  moment,  went  back  to  the  store  to  tell  his  father 
and  the  villagers  whom  he  met  of  the  glad  tidings. 

After  dinner  Tom  conceived  the  idea  of  driving  over 
to  Mansdale.  He  knew  that  Will.  Morton  would  be 
especially  interested  in  the  news,  that  the  whole  family 
would  be  interested  in  it  in  a  general  way,  and  he 
knew  that  he  was  interested  in  Blanch  in  a  kind  of 
indefinable  way.     He    debated    in    his    mind    as    to 


316  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

whether  he  should  stop  at  Graham's  and  ask  Mrs. 
Graham  if  Mary  and  Sue  might  go  with  him,  if  the}' 
wished.  Although  the  girls  were  still  j^oung,  he  felt 
sure  now  that  Mrs.  Graham  would  not  deny  him  this 
request,  and  he  felt  more  sure  that  the  girls  would 
accept.  But  still  he  hesitated  considerabl}^  about  the 
propriety'  of  it.  Although,  of  course,  it  was  fitting 
that  they  should  be  there  on  the  occasion  of  the  vet- 
eran party,  or  that  this  fellow  and  that  fellow  might 
call  on  the  Morton's  in  a  semi-business  capacity  about 
things  pertaining  to  the  war,  or  as  condoling  commit- 
tees over  Harry ;  3'et  who  was  authorized  to  say 
exactly  how  they  might  receive  a  purely  uninvited 
social  call  from  the  Grahams?  Perhaps  he  had  better 
leave  it  alone.  His  own  relation  with  Will,  would 
warrant  him  of  course  in  going  himself,  and  any  social 
freezing  that  he  might  experience  from  the  lady  mem- 
bers of  the  family  he  could  keep  entirely  to  himself. 
Still  it  seemed  selfish  to  drive  over  alone  on  that  lovely 
June  day.  "  Ma}-  be,"  he  thought,  "  I  had  better  ask 
Maggie  Barnard  to  go  with  me.  She  would  jump  at 
the  chance  of  course,  and  of  course  the  Mortons  could 
not  discount  her  social  standing,  their  own  cousin,  the 
belle  of  Shocktown,  and  the  queen  of  the  ball. 

After  proving  so  conclusively  to  himself  that  it 
would  be  perfectly  proper  to  take  Maggie  Bernard  with 
him,  what  reason  do  j-ou  suppose  he  ultimately 
found  for  going  by  himself?  It  is  my  province  not  to 
answer,  only  to  state  the  fact,  only  to  say  that  as  he 
jogged  along  that  lovely  day  in  the  early  June  enjo}-- 
ing  his  segar  and  engaged  alone  with  his  own  thoughts, 
his  mind  went  back  over  verj- much  the  same  things 
that  his  old  friends  Walter  and  Dave  Miller  had  been 


SOMETHING    DROPS.  317 

talking  about  when  the  drum  called  them  to  action. 
He  thought  of  the  latest  bereavement  in  the  village, 
and  the  expression  that  was  on  Mrs.  Miller's  face  the 
day  the  paper  came  saj'ing  Joe  had  been  killed  at 
Spottsylvania,  another  victim  out  of  his  old  company. 
He  thought  of  his  mother  and  his  own  brother  Frank, 
both  lying  in  the  little  church'-yard  grave.  He  remem- 
bered that  Frank  and  Dave  Miller  were  like  Walter 
and  himself,  about  of  an  age  and  almost  as  intimate. 
He  reflected  on  how  many  of  his  childhood  compan- 
ions had  already  been  sacrificed,  and  thought  how 
much  he  had  to  be  thankful  for  himself.  He  hoped, 
he  truly  hoped  that  Walter  would  live  to  get  back  all 
right.  He  trembled  when  he  thought  of  the  terrific 
manner  in  which  the  contest  was  still  raging  ;  of  the 
strong  probability  that  Walter  would  3-et  be  killed. 

A  vague  premonition,  a  faint  foreshadowing  of  some- 
thing in  connection  with  that  thought,  seemed  to  tell 
him  that  Walter's  death  might  not  be  to  his  disadvant- 
age in  the  consummation  of  the  half  undefined  purpose 
that  was  taking  him  to  Mansdale  that  afternoon.  He 
was  startled  for  the  instant  like  a  guilty  culprit  at  the 
thought  of  such  a  thought.  Why  had  it  entered  his 
mind  ?  It  was  the  brain  in  its  cogitations  simply  that 
had  spoken.  He  knew  that  it  was  not  the  soul.  He 
bade  the  thought  forever  down.  He  called  upon  God 
to  witness  that  he  was  not  guilt}'  of  so  mean  a  thing. 
He  made  no  pretense  of  being  as  high  in  moral  attri- 
butes as  Walter  Graham.  He  knew  that  his  mind  was 
less  stable  and  perhaps  more  subtle  than  his  friend's, 
but  he  could  bow  here  under  the  shadows  of  these 
trees  and  swear  before  high  Heaven  that  the  thought 
which  had  pierced  his  brain  for  a  single  moment  was  the 


318  WALTKR   GRAHAM,    vSTATESMAN. 

thought  of  the  devil,  that  it  should  find  entering  room 
in  his  mind  never  again.  Nay,  if  it  came  to  that,  he 
could  stand  up  and  officiate  at  the  wedding  of  Walter 
Graham  and  Blanch  Morton  as  best  man  without  an 
envious  pang.  He  would  put  himself  to  the  test,  by 
always  speaking  of  him  to  Blanch  in  the  most  com- 
plimentary terms. 

When  he  arrived  at  Mansdale  he  drove  directly  to 
the  Morton  mansion.  Heretofore  he  had  always  gone 
first  to  the  warehouse  to  see  Will,  and  then  be  governed 
by  developments.  Somehow  he  forgot  all  about  that 
circumlocution  to-day  and  took  a  shorter  cut  to  the 
object  of  his  heart.  He  hitched  his  horse  under  the 
shade  of  the  trees,  walked  up  through  the  spacious  yard 
and  was  met  on  the  porch  by  Blanch  herself,  whose 
frank  manner  instantly  dispelled  any  fear  he  may  have 
had  of  being  frozen  out. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Swave,  we  are  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said. 
"  How  come  you  to  be  so  thoughtful  as  to  drive  over 
this  afternoon,  just  as  we  were  all  talking  about  you?  " 

"  Oh,  the  good  angels  always  tell  a  person  what  to 
do.  I  just  came  over  to  bring  you  the  news  and  hear 
what  you  have  here." 

"That's  right,  come  in.  Miss  Deaver  is  here, 
whom  you  met  at  the  party.  Her  brother  has  been 
badly  injured,  lost  a  limb  only  a  few  days  ago  at 
North  Anna." 

"  Yes,  I  know  her  brother  Charlie.  He  was  a  mem- 
ber of  my  old  company." 

They  went  into  the  house  where  Aunt  Mary,  Cousin 
Ida  and  Miss  Deaver  all  received  him  kindly,  Tom 
inquiring  of  Miss  Deaver  the  particulars  about  her 
brother,  who  told  him  that  his  leg  had  been  amputated 


SOMETHING    DROPS.  319 

above  the  knee,  but  the  advices  now  were  that  he  was 
in  a  favorable  condition,  and  the  doctors  saw  no  reason 
why  he  should  not  recover  all  right. 

Tom  remarked  dryly,  "Yes,  yes,  if  they  keep  on 
there  will  not  be  much  of  the  old  One  Hundredth  and 
Seventeenth  left." 

Miss  Deaver  replied,  "  No,  I  think  not." 

Blanch  remarked,  half  humorously,  "Why,  they 
don't  amount  to  anything  compared  with  the  Seventy- 
fifth,  do  they?  Don't  you  remember  your  friend,  Mc- 
Knight's  version  of  matters?" 

"Yes  indeed,"  replied  Tom,  smiling  the  smile  of  reci- 
procity, ' '  when  the  war  is  over  we  will  have  to  give 
Pat.  a  gold  medal,  with  the  inscription,  "  The  country 
saved  by  the  gallant  Seventy-fifth." 

Ida  smiled  and  said,  "  Perhaps  you  could  not  give  it 
to  anyone  who  would  appreciate  it  more." 

Miss  Deaver  looked  half  inquiringly  as  Blanch 
remarked  to  her,  "  Oh,  this  is  a  little  fun  Mr.  Swave 
and  I  have.  Well,  what  is  the  news  up  atShocktown, 
anyhow,  Mr.  Swave,  you  said  you  came  to  tell  us. 
We  have  told  you  ours  already." 

"Oh,  both  good  and  bad,"  said  Tom.  "Joe  Mil- 
ler, an  old  schoolmate  of  mine  and  Will.'s,  too,  has 
been  killed,  and  Walt.  Graham  is  all  right,  back  with 
his  regiment,  and  captian  now." 

"Oh,  say,  tell  us  about  it,"  they  all  exclaimed  at 
once;  "was  he  exchanged?  W^hat  is  the  latest  news 
you  have  ?" 

"Well,  his  mother  received  two  letters  from  him 
this  morning,  one  dated  considerably  in  advance  of  the 
other.     They  say  he  escaped." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  we  got  a  letter  from  him  this  morn- 


320  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

ing,  too,"  said  Aunt  Mary,  with  a  twinkle  in  her  eye, 
and  turning  towards  Blanch. 

"Is  that  so?"  exclaimed  Tom.  "Perhaps  your 
information  is  later  than  ours.  Let  me  see  that  letter, 
Mi.ss  Blanch." 

"Listen  at  the  man,  won't  you,"  said  Ida;  "  wants  to 
read  your  letter,  Blanch." 

"Why,  certainly,"  said  Blanch,  turning  to  her 
drawer  to  get  it,  ' '  but  I  do  not  think  it  has  anything 
later.  In  fact,  it  makes  no  allusion  to  himself  except 
to  say  that  he  is  back  all  right." 

"Well,  yes,"  said  Tom,  smiling,  "  j^ou  see  I  merely 
wished  to  learn  the  date. ' ' 

"Yes,  yes,  I  understand,"  replied  Ida,  "you  have  a 
very  ingenious  way  of  stealing  into  Blanch's  letters. 
You  would  not  like  to  promise  to  look  no  further  than 
the  date,  would  you?" 

"Oh,  now,  3^ousee,  Mi.ss  Ida,  you  have  made  me  out 
a  sinner;  I  will  have  to  be  one,"  replied  Tom,  as  he 
took  the  letter  from  Blanch,  and  at  her  request,  of 
course,  read  it  carefully  all  through. 

"Now,  you  see,"  said  Blanch,  "he  does  not  say 
an^'thing  about  himself  except  the  bare  fact." 

' '  Heroes  never  do  talk  about  themselves, ' '  replied 
Tom.      "  Walt,  is  a  hero,  if  ever  there  was  one." 

"And  I  wonder  what  IVa//.  calls    Tom,"  said   Ida. 

"Oh,  well,  that  is  what  he  calls  me ;  that  is  the 
Toi/i  part  of  it.  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  commencing 
to  do  the  same.  I  think  I  have  heard  you  girls  even 
say  Walt.  I  think  you  ought  to  extend  the  same 
courtes}'  to  me  b}-  saying  Tom." 

"Oh,  no;  it  is  Will,  that  says  Walt.,"  replied 
Blanch      "  I  always  spoke  of  him  as  Walter. 


SOMETHING   DROPS.  321 

"Then  she  will  have  to  call  you  Thomas,"  said 
Aunt  Mary. 

"Oh,  that  kills  me,"  said  Tom.  "I  would  not 
know  whom  you  were  speaking  to." 

"I  always  thought  Tom  was  a  nice  name,"  inter- 
posed Miss  Deaver;  "  it  is  nice  and  easily  said.  You 
need  not  think  of  it  as  a  nickname." 

The  company  all  seemed  to  endorse  what  Miss 
Deaver  had  said,  upon  reflection,  but  there  were  some 
names  ;  there  was  no  sense  in  nicknaming,  such,  for 
instance,  as  Walter  that  was  short  and  easy  enough 
in  itself.  Thus  thej-  discussed  this  important  topic 
for  several  minutes,  Blanch  closing  it  with  that 
thoughtful  expression  of  merriment  in  her  eye,  saying, 
"Walter  Graham  and  Tom  Swave  ;  I  suppose  those 
are  a  couple  of  pretty  good  names.  Two  great  boys 
undertook  to  go  to  war,  one  got  wounded  and  had  to 
come  home,  and  the  other  was  taken  prisoner." 

"Yes,  indeed,  that  is  the  way  to  put  the  rebellion 
down,  is  it  not?"  replied  Tom. 

"Oh,  girls,  let  us  go  outside,"  said  Ida,  as  she  led 
the  way  out  on  the  porch,  "it  is  so  pleasant." 

The  compau)^  all  got  up,  went  out  on  the  porch, 
strolled  about  the  yard,  and  had  such  a  liveh'  time, 
that  it  would  be  vain  to  attempt  to  describe  it.  Tom 
forgot  to  even  inquire  for  Will,  until  nearly  supper 
time.  Certain  it  was,  he  no  longer  needed  hiiu  as  a 
medium  through  which  to  see  the  girls.  The  Chris- 
tian resignation  with  which  the  family  had  accepted 
Harry's  death  was  beautiful.  Blanch  had  ignored  all 
mourning,  remarking  simply  to  her  father,  "  If  my 
love  for  Harry  is  not  inside  of  my  breast,  I  cannot  con- 


322  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

vince  the  world  that  it  is  there  by  wearing  it  on  the 
outside." 

Her  very  presence  seemed  restful  to  Tom  Swave  that 
afternoon.  She  was  almost  gay.  She  was  happy  in 
the  thought  that  she  had  read  and  re-read  several 
times  in  Walter's  letter,  "His  military  career  was 
short,  and  his  death  a  stunning  blow  to  you.  But  his 
honor  is  quite  safe." 

"  Harry  dead  and  his  honor  quite  safe.  Better  far 
than  at  home  with  us  this  lovely  afternoon  in  dis- 
grace," she  thought.  Young  Graham,  she  believed, 
must  be  something  of  a  hero;  Dave  Miller's  letter  indi- 
cated it ;  his  own  letter  indicates  it ;  and  here  is  his 
life-long  friend  calling  him  such. 

Thus  they  basked  in  the  shade  and  the  sunshine  of 
the  old  yard  and  porches  that  afternoon.  On  one 
occasion  Tom  slipped  up  behind  Blanch,  with  a  large 
maple  leaf  curled  down  in  the  centre  of  his  left  hand, 
struck  it  with  that  peculiar  scientific  blow  with  his 
right  hand  which  he  had  done  so  often  when  a  young- 
ster, making  it  crack  like  a  pistol  in  her  ear.  Blanch 
jumped,  turned  around  and  said,  "Oh  !  Tom  Swave, 
you  mean  fellow,  what  shall  I  do  with  you  ?  " 

Tom  shook  with  laughter  while  Blanch  smiled  in 
great  amusement  at  his  hearty  laugh.  Tom  saying, 
"  Come  sympathise  with  her,  girls.  She  is  awfully  in- 
jured." "Well,  you  are  mean.  Don't  you  think  so 
yourself?"  said  Blanch,  smiling  complacently  at  him. 
' '  What  made  you  drive  over  here  this  afternoon  by 
yourself?  Why  did  you  not  brirg  cousin  Maggie  or 
Rachie  with  you?  " 

"  Oh  !  bless  me,"  said  Tom.     "How  could  I  bring 


som:^thing  drops.  323 

other  girls  with  me,  when  I  came  to  take  you  out  rid- 
ing?" 

"Oh  !  mercy,  you  are  a  long  time  asking  a  person. 
I  never  took  you  for  such  a  backward  young  man." 

"  Better  late  than  not  at  all,"  replied  Tom.  "  Come, 
I  will  take  you  around  the  town  and  show  you  the 
places  of  interest. ' ' 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Blanch,  still  smiling  benignantly  at 
him,  and  making  an  effort  to  fix  a  leaf  in  her  hand  in 
that  peculiar  cracking  position  so  well  understood  by 
the  boys.  It  is  too  near  supper  time  now,  I  must  go 
in  and  help  Aunt  Mary  prepare  it.  Harriet  went 
awa)^  O,  I  will  tell  you  what  we  will  do,  girls,  after 
supper.  We  will  all  take  a  drive  over  to  White  Hill ; 
some  one  said  the  honeysuckles  are  in  bloom." 

"That  would  be  nice,"  said  Ida. 

"  Yes,  Tom,  you  will  have  to  stay  and  be  our  escort. 
You  can  go  with  us,  can  you  not,  Miss  Deaver?  I  am 
going  to  call  John,  and  have  him  put  5'our  horse 
away,  Tom,  and  hitch  ours  to  the  big  carriage  after 
supper." 

"Well,  hold  on,"  said  Tom,  "you  did'nt  ask  your 
father  yet  if  you  might  go  sporting  around  with  his 
team." 

'    "  Well,  I  will  send  you  down  to  the  office  to  ask  him 
if  you  may  have  them."  replied  Blanch. 

"Pretty  good  suggestion,"  replied  Tom,  "inas- 
much as  I  would  have  to  ask  and  you  don't. 

The  pleasant  afternoon  thus  passed  away.  John 
having  come,  told  Blanch  that  the  horses  were  all  at 
work  or  away  except  old  Charlie,  Will,  having  gone 
away  with  the  best  driver. 

"Oh  he  will  do  for  us,  John.    We  only  want  to  go  to 


324  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN, 

White  Hill,"  said  Blanch,  with  a  kindness  of  voice  and 
manner  that  captivated  Tom  almost  more  than  any- 
thing that  had  occurred  during  the  afternoon. 

At  supper  time  Mr.  Morton  presented  himself  and 
was  quite  pleasant  and  greatly  interested  in  the  news 
that  Tom  brought  from  Walter.  His  letter  to  Blanch, 
he  said,  was  so  very  short. 

After  supper  the  three  girls  and  Tom  were  seated  in 
the  big  carriage  behind  "  Old  Charlie  "  on  their  way  to 
White  Hill.  "Old  Charlie"  was  a  large,  snow-white 
horse,  with  coat  as  clean  as  hands  could  make  it,  and 
gave  evidence  of  the  fact  that  the  years  were  not  so 
very  long  since  he  had  been  a  beautiful  dapple  gray. 
White  Hill  was  the  little  summer  retreat  of  the  neigh- 
borhood where  all  the  wild  flowers  from  the  Jonnie- 
jnmp-up  to  the  rich  pink  roses  mingled  their  perfumes 
with  each  other  in  their  respective  seasons  ;  where  the 
rocks  lay  over  one  another  in  stratified  and  unstratified 
masses,  along  whose  sides  at  proper  intervals  giant 
oaks  reared  their  heads  and  babbling  springs  came 
rippling  down,  whose  water  sprayed  the  broad-leaved 
ferns  along  its  way  ;  where  scientists  went  to  botan- 
ize, poets  to  dream,  cit)^  visitors  to  rusticate,  old  people 
to  recuperate,  and  young  people  to  amuse  themselves. 

As  the}^  drove  along  that  evening  they  saw  the 
honest  yeomen  working  in  their  corn-fields,  cattle  graz- 
ing in  rich  pastures,  wheat-fields  standing  level  with 
the  fences  in  deepest  green,  clover  blooms  of  various 
hues,  welcome  shade  trees  here  and  there  b}-  the  road 
side,  and  White  Hill  peering  in  the  distance,  all  of 
which  seemed  to  say,  "We  perform  our  nlission  just 
the  same,  whether  the  country  is  at  war  or  peace" — all 
of  which  seemed  to  say,  "We  are  entirely  oblivious  of 


I 


SOMETHING   DROPS,  325 

the  fact  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  distress  in  the 
land." 

This  Httle  company  seemed  to  imbibe  the  spirit  of 
restfuhiess,  and  for  awhile  forgot  there  was  a  war  ; 
Cousin  Ida  saying,  "Oh!  what  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in 
June?  " 

Blanch  said,  "I  guess  an  evening  in  June  is  about  all 
that  could  be  nicer." 

"A  part}'  of  young  girls  driving  along,  and  admiring 
it,  is  still  nicer,"  said  Tom. 

"  Well,  that  is  only  an  incident  of  June,"  said  Ida. 
"I  suppose  it  does  not  mar  the  beauty  any  if  the 
young  girls  have  a  young  gentleman  to  drive  for 
them,"  said  Miss  Deaver. 

' '  Especially  if  the  young  gentleman  is  right  agree- 
able," added  Blanch,  who  was  sitting  in  front  with 
Tom,  and  looked  into  his  face  with  that  penetrating 
but  tender  glance  mingled  with  its  smile  of  latent 
humor,  so  peculiar  to  those  half-crossed  eyes.  Tom 
was  not  more  completely  disabled  at  Gettysburg  than 
he  was  now  ;  only  this  time  the  sensation  w^as  more 
pleasing. 

"  M)',  I  did  not  know  you  were  so  sarcastic,"  he 
replied,  seizing  the  whip  in  his  hand,  and  making 
believe  to  strike  "  Old  Charlie."  "Don't  you  strike 
him,"  said  Blanch,  jumping  at  him  sportively  and 
catching  his  hand.  "Father  don't  allow  Old  Charlie 
to  be  whipped."  "  I  guess  Blanch  don't  allow  it,"  said 
the  girls  from  behind.  Tom  was  completely  meshed, 
none  the  less  so  because  the  net  was  artlessly  thrown. 
By  the  time  they  reached  White  Hill  he  could  not  have 
told  whether  the  honeysuckles  were  in  bloom  or  not, 
nor  the  difference  between  a  dandelion  and  a  thistle. 


k 


326  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

He  did  remember  that  they  met  Will.  Morton  and  the 
little  heroine  from  the  South,  Emma  Reed,  riding  in  a 
buggy;  that  they  stopped  and  talked  for  a  few  minutes 
and  seemed  to  be  very  happy;  that  they  had  also 
passed  High.  Bowers  and  Maggie  Bernard,  taking  an 
evening  drive  ;  that  they  stopped  for  a  few  minutes  ; 
that  High,  was  wonderfully  deferential  and  asked  with 
great  interest  after  Walter. 

He  remembered  that  as  he  went  limping  over  the 
hill  with  the  girls  he  held  out  his  hand  on  one  occa- 
sion to  help  Blanch  across  a  little  rill.  His  cane 
slipped  and  he  let  her  fall  in,  but  she  escaped,  simply 
wetting  one  foot.  The  girls-  all  laughed  heartily, 
Blanch  herself  seeming  to  enjoy  it  best  of  all,  as  she 
said,  smiling,  "Captain  Tom  Swave,  what  an  escort 
you  are  for  the  ladies,  anyhow.  Stop,  and  let  us 
escort  you.  Girls,  get  behind  the  poor  old  Gettys- 
burger,  and  push  him  up  the  hill."  He  knew,  of 
course,  that  he  got  back  to  Morton's  all  right,  and  in 
due  time  started  for  home.  As  he  walked  out  to  the 
gate  to  get  in  his  buggy  Blanch  said  to  him,  "Tom, 
I  want  you  to  tell  me  something." 

"  What  is  that?"  said  Tom. 

"What  kind  of  a  man  is  this  High.  Bowers,  who 
seems  to  be  rather  intimate  with  Cousin  Maggie?" 

"Oh,  he  is  a  right  plausible  young  fellow.  He  is 
the  nabob  of  our  neighborhood,  and  his  father  is  rich 
and  influential." 

"  But  is  he  a  man  of  character?  that  is  what  I  want 
to  know. ' ' 

"I  do  not  hold  those  intimate  relations  with  him, 
which  warrant  one  in  answering  that  question." 


SOMETHING    DROPS.  327 

"Your  answers  are  evasive.  Tell  me,  Tom,  in  con- 
fidence, what  you  know  about  bim." 

Astute  as  Tom  Swave  was,  tbe  honest  countenance 
that  looked  at  him  now  was  hard  to  evade  ;  but  he 
answered,  "  My  impressions  have  always  been  against 
taking  him  into  my  extreme  confidence." 

"Well,  excuse  me,"  said  Blanch,  "  I  will  press  you 
no  farther." 

He  got  into  his  buggy  and  started  home,  and  be  it 
remembered,  though,  as  previously  stated  his  head  was 
always  a  little  steadier  on  matters  of  love  than  Wal- 
ter's, it  swam  considerably  that  night  as  he  drove 
towards  Shocktown.  Blanch  turned,  went  to  her 
room  and  commenced  to  answer  Walter's  letter.  The 
family  had  all  told  her  she  should  acknowledge  it 
soon.  Of  course  she  would  attend  to  it  soon.  She  sat 
down  and  commenced  it  three  times.  Schooled  as  she 
was  in  etiquette  and  the  forms  of  letter  writing,  and 
aided  still  more  by  her  natural  good  sense,  she  never 
had  been  so  perplexed  in  deciding  how  to  commence  a 
letter.  Dear  Walter  seemed  a  little  too  warm  ;  Dear 
Sir  decidedly  too  cold.  The  circumstances  of  the  case 
justified  more  than  that.  Esteemed  Fi'iend  too  formal. 
"  What  shall  I  say,"  she  thought;  "  I  ought  to  have 
kept  Tom  to  help  me  write,"  unconsciously  smiling 
and  talking  still  in  silence  to  herself  "  He  is  such  a 
good-natured  fellow  ;  I  kind  of  half  like  him.  I  won- 
der if  I  was  too  free  with  him  to-day."  But  her 
thoughts  soon  went  back  to  Walter  and  the  letter. 
After  she  got  it  started,  what  was  she  to  say  in  it  ?  It 
must  be  submitted  to  father ;  of  course,  it  must.  She 
would  not  think  of  sending  it  without  his  seeing  it. 
She  would  show  it  to  all  the  family  at  the  breakfast 


328  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

table  in  the  morning.  She  wondered  what  Aunt  Mary 
would  think  of  it,  and  she  did  want  father  to  approve  of 
it ;  so  after  tearing  it  up  for  the  fourth  time,  she  com- 
pleted it  once  more  from  beginning  to  end  without  an 
erasure  or  interlineation,  and  said  involuntarily,  "This 
is  the  time  I  have  got  it  perfect,  and  this  is  the  way  it 
shall  go."     It  was  as  follows  : 

Mansdai^I';,  June  id,  1864. 
Afj  Friend,  Walter  Graham: 

Your  letter  of  the  i6th  of  last  niontli  was  only  received  to- 
day. Therefore,  you  will  understand  the  cause  of  the  delay  in 
this  answer.  We  were  all  rejoiced  to  learn  the  good  news  in 
reference  to  yourself,  though  yon  made  such  a  slight  reference 
to  it. 

Be  assured  that  we  all  do  thank  you  beyond  the  power  of 
words  to  express  for  j-our  noble  efforts  in  Harrj^'s  behalf.  You 
have  no  apology  to  make  for  not  doing  more.  It  is  we  that 
owe  every  apology  to  you,  and  certainly  no  words  could  express 
the  thought  better  than  your  own,  "Though  his  career  was 
short,  and  his  death  a  stunning  blow  to  us  all,  his  honor  is  quite 
safe. ' ' 

We  do  take  comfort  in  that  thought,  Walter,  and  I  know 
that  your  friends  are  all  proud  of  the  fact  that  your  honor  is 
equally  secure.  Your  friend  Tom  was  here  this  afternoon  ;  he 
drove  a  lot  of  us  girls  over  to  White  Hill,  and  we  all  had  a 
loveh-  time.  He  always  speaks  of  you  in  the  most  kindly  man- 
ner. All  the  family  join  in  wishing  to  be  remembered  to  you. 
With  hopes  that  we  may  hear  from  you  again  at  your  con- 
venience, I  remain,  Yours  Very  Respectfully, 

Blanch  Morton. 

At  breakfast  she  handed  the  letter  to  her  father,  say- 
ing, ' '  Father,  here  is  the  letter  I  have  written  to  Wal- 
ter Graham,  see  if  it  will  do."  "  Oh,  I  do  not  care  to 
inspect  j'our  letters,  child,"  said  Mr.  Morton. 

"  Well,  I  will  just  read  it  for  the  benefit  of  all,"  said 
Blanch,  which  she  did,  and  they  all  thought  it  would 


SOMETHING   DROPS.  329 

do.  She  sealed  it,  and  after  breakfast  started  with  it 
to  th^  office  herself.  She  held  it  in  her  hand  all  the 
way  ;  but  she  kept  the  indorsed  side  in  as  she  walked 
down  the  street ;  somehow  she  never  felt  such  a 
strange  sensation  in  mailing  a  letter  before.  It 
was  a  lovely  June  morning.  The  mist  was  still 
hanging  over  the  borough.  It  was  going  to  be 
another  lovely  June  day,  the  very  counterpart  of 
yesterday,  aye,  an  historic  June  day.  She  stepped 
into  the  office  and  looked  up  at  the  clock.  It 
w^as  just  twenty  minutes  past  seven.  There  was  no 
person  about  except  the  clerk  inside.  She  slipped  the 
letter  in  the  hole.  She  heard  it  drop.  Oh  !  the  strange 
law  of  coincidence.  That  same  moment  something  else 
dropped,  though  Blanche  Morton  heard  it  not.  It  was 
far  away  in  old  Virginia.  It  was  Walter  Graham. 
He  is  lying  now  on  the  field  of  Cold  Harbor,  where  a 
musket  ball  has  burrowed  a  hole  c4ear  through  his  left 
breast,  and  the  life  blood  is  flowing  profusely  therefrom. 


k 


CHAPTER     XIX. 

RETROSPECT. 

"Grim  visaged  war  has  smoothed  his  wrinkled  front." 

—Richard  III. 
TT  is  June,  1867.  It  is  the  second  of  June,  1867. 
-^  It  is  a  Sunday  evening  in  June,  1867.  It  is  just 
three  3'ears  since  Tom  Swave  took  his  carriage  load  of 
girls  over  to  White  Hill  and  had  such  a  delightful 
time.  To-morrow  morning  will  be  the  third  of  June, 
1867. 

It  will  just  be  three  years  since  we  left  Walter 
Graham  lying  prostrate  and  bleeding  on  the  field  of 
' '  Cold  Harbor  ; ' '  but  where  is  he  now  ?  That  is  the 
question  !  Of  course,  you  know  the  clash  of  resound- 
ing arras  has  ceased  through  the  land  ;  but  where  is 
Walter?  We  will  tell  you  without  a  moment's  sus- 
pense :  he  is  sitting  on  a  log  down  by  the  tail-race,  in 
the-  shadow  of  his  father's  saw  mill,  listening  to  the 
water  plashing  down  on  the  old  head  gate,  and  water 
wheel — just  as  he  had  done  many  a  Sunday  afterncon 
before  in  the  days  of  his  boyhood.  He  is  not  flashing 
sword  or  baj^onet  at  the  head  of  '  'burnished  rows  of 
steel' '  to  fright  the  souls  of  fearful  adversaries  ;  but  he 
is  complacently  punching  with  a  lap-wood  stick  the 
ground,  and  at  a  pile  of  scantling  before  him,  while  his 
thoughts  are  deeply  busied  in  contemplation  of  the  happy 
event  which  awaits  him  on  the  morrow.  He  is  whis- 
pering to  no  friend,  with  bated  breath,  between  groans 
of  pain  and  jets  of  life-blood, — "Tell  my  parents  not 


I 


RETROSPECT.  331 

to  grieve  for  me  if  this  should  be  the  end," — but  he  is 
enjoying,  apparently,  the  best  of  health,  and  he  is 
in  reality  the  happiest  man  on  earth.  He  is  going  to 
Sharwood  to-morrow  morning  to  be  admitted  to  the 
Bar.  He  could  define  now,  in  technical  language,  the 
word  lazv,  but  he  no  more  understood  than  did  the 
great  author  of  that  definition  himself,  all  the  rules  of 
action  that  were  prescribed  b}^  that  superior  power  ; 
but  he  smiled  complacently  when  he  thought  how  he 
had  knocked  the  examining  committee  out  the  evening 
before,  each  time,  as  they  fired  the  questions  at  him 
about  natural  law  and  divine  law  ;  international  law 
and  municipal  law ;  common  law  and  statute  law. 
How  he  explained  to  them  the  necessity  of  invoking 
the  aid  of  equity  when  they  all  failed,  "by  reason  of 
their  universality. ' '  How  he  let  them  know  the  objects 
of  all  laws  were  rights  ;  zvrotigs. 

What  was  the  use  of  his  opening  the  lids  of  Black- 
stone  to  learn  that,  he  thought.  Why  that  is  what 
my  mother  taught  me  at  her  knee  twenty  years  ago. 

Still,  he  had  a  right  to  feel  well  satisfied  with  the 
manner  in  which  he  grappled  with  the  committee  for 
two  and  a  half  hours  as  the}'  listened  to  his  definitions 
of  natural  persons  and  artificial  persons  ;  of  their  abso- 
lute rights,  and  their  relative  rights  ;  of  their  public 
relations,  and  their  private  relations  ;  of  things  real, 
and  things  personal ;  of  the  feudal  system,  and  the 
different  feuds  ;  of  the  estates  of  freehold,  and  less 
than  freehold;  of  those  of  inheritance,  and  not  of  in- 
heritance ;  of  those  in  possesion,  and  those  in  expect- 
ancy ;  of  tenants  in  severalty  or  tenants  in  common  ; 
of  title  by  descent,  or  title  by  purchase.  How  he  made 
his  way  .safely  through  all  these  and  various  other  top- 


f 


332  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATE.SMAN. 

ics,  with  all  their  subdivisons  and  fine  distinctions,  it  is 
useless  to  relate,  even  plunging  into  the  rule  in  Shelly 's 
Case  with  a  confidence  which  caused  old  Judge  Upham 
to  smile.  He  felt  he  had  acquitted  himself  equally 
well  as  the}^  led  him  over  the  subjects  of  practice  and 
pleading;  of  evidence  and  equitj^;  and  that  his  journey 
through  criminal  law  had  been  only  a  pleasure  excur- 
sion. But  the  thing  which  provoked  the  broadest 
smile  on  the  old  Judge's  tace  was  when  the  committee 
touched  iiim  up  a  little  on  the  constitutional  powers  of 
his  own  government ;  about  the  relative  rights  of  the 
general  government  and  the  states  thereof ;  about  the 
powers  expressed  and  the  powers  withheld,  in  their 
different  constitutions,  until  they  led  up  to  the  direct 
question  : 

"Well,  what  do  you  say,  has  the  ITnited  States  the 
right,  or  constitutional  power,  to  issue  paper  money  at 
any  time  ?  as  for  instance  the  greenbacks,  as  we  called 
them  during  the  war." 

"  Why  certainly,"  replied  Walter  with  great  prompt- 
ness, "the  government  had  as  much  right  to  do  that 
for  its  own  preservation,  if  it  was  necessary  during  the 
war,  as  anything  else.  There  must  always  be,  some- 
where, an  inherent,  latent  power  in  every  government 
to  maintain  its  own  existence,  or  it  is  no  government." 

The  committee  all  smiled  except  Mr.  Fate,  who 
looked  a  little  sour,  as  the  old  Judge  remarked,  half 
way  between  satire  and  humor,  "That  is  what  we 
always  like — young  men  who  can  answer  the  gravest 
constitutional  questions  off-hand." 

Walter  looked  around,  slightly  in  ignorance  as  to 
whether  he  had  been  satirized  or  complimented  ; 
though  it  is  doubtful  if  in  greater  ignorance  than  was 


RETROSPECT.  333 

the  committee  itself  as  to  how  nearly  correct  his  an- 
swer had  been  in  giving  the  very  basis  on  which  grave 
judicial  decrees  should  yet  technically  defend  the  action 
of  the  government.  But  the  point  on  which  no  one 
was  probably  in  doubt,  was  to  which  of  the  two  schools 
of  political  faith  the  student  belonged. 

Naturally  enough,  as  Walter  sat  that  Sunday  eve- 
ning in  such  a  tranquil  state  of  mind,  feeling  so  kindly 
towards  all  the  world,  and  looking  with  such  high 
expectancy  into  the  great  future  that  lay  before  him 
— he  remembered  that  to-morrow  was  the  third  of  June  ; 
involuntary  his  thoughts  turned  backward,  and  he  felt 
almost  happier  than  he  had  been  before.  He  was  seized 
with  an  inexpressible  feeling  of  gratitude.  Nay,  he 
would  not  stand  to-morrow  in  that  forum  of  justice  and 
assume  his  solmn  obligation  to  act  with  fidelity  in  his 
high  office  as  attorney,  and  receive  the  congratulations 
of  friends  on  that  third  anniversary  of  Cold  Harbor, 
without  returning  thanks  to  Almight}^  God  by  whose 
overruling  providence  he  was  thus  permitted  to  stand  ; 
nor  fail  to  pray  that  he  might  never  grow  unmindful 
of  the  comforts  of  her  .by  whose  noble  sacrifices  ;  whose 
unceasing  devotion  and  undying  love,  he  knew  he  was 
this  day  breathing ;  by  whose  untiring  w^atchfulness 
and  tender  nursing  he  knew  he  had  been  dragged  back 
from  the  very  threshold  of  the  grave. 

The  retrospect  which  he  took  of  the  three  fleeting 
years,  since  that  historic  June  day  when  he  lay  upon 
that  field  with  ten  thousand  others,  while  the  dry  earth 
was  drinking  in  their  life's  blood,  had  brought  him 
almost  to  a  melting  mood.  Now  that  this  was  such  a 
soft  June  evening,  and  no  one  about  to  see  him  play 
the  woman,  he  would  just  let  the  few  tears  that  had 
started  steal  down  his  cheeks. 


334  WALTER   GRAHAM,  STATESMAN. 

When  he  thought  of  it,  he  could  almost  feel  yet  the 
shock  of  that  ball  as  it  pierced  his  lung,  as  he  fell  back, 
exclaiming,  "  Great  God  !  at  last,  at  last  !" 

He  lay  for  a  few  minutes  entirely  unconscious  of  the 
slaughter  that  was  going  on  around  him.  He  remem- 
bered raising  up,  hearing  the  groans  of  dying  men  on 
every  side;  getting  upon  his  feet  and  walking,  with  a  kind 
of  supernatural  effort,  some  fifty  yards  to  the  rear,  when 
he  sank  down  again,  vomiting  and  fainting,  but  not  to 
rise  again  until  the  October  frosts  laid  open  the  chest- 
nut burs  at  his  dear  old  home.  He  remembered  return- 
ing to  consciousness  again  ;  all  firing  had  ceased,  but 
the  death  groans  had  increased.  The  dead  and  dying 
numbered  ten  thousand  ;  the  time  measured  twenty 
minutes. 

He  felt  the  hand  and  recognized  the  voice  of  Dave 
Miller,  as  he  administered  some  stimulants  and  bathed 
his  forehead  with  the  same.  He  heard  Dave  say,  "  I'm 
all  right,  Walter  ;  so  is  Pat  ;  so  is  Jack  ;  Sam  and 
Jake  are  both  slightly  injured  ;  we  will  take  care  of 
you."  He  understood  they  got  him  on  a  stretcher  and 
carried  hira  to  the  rear,  while  still  vomiting  and  faint- 
ing. He  motioned  Dave  close  to  him,  and  tried  to 
whisper  something  (they  were  the  words  already  given 
— "Tell  my  parents  not  to  grieve  for  me;  if  this 
should  prove  the  end,  I  am  content").  I  cannot  say 
that  at  anj^  time  he  bade  them  lay  him  down  to  attend 
to  themselves,  or  to  others,  whose  necessities  were 
greater  than  his  own.  The  opportunity  past,  he  left 
no  such  immortal  sentiment  escape  his  lips  to  go  softly 
down  the  ages. 

But,  hold  !  Perhaps  there  were  none  around  him 
whose   necessities  were   greater   than    his  own.     You 


RKTKOSPECT.  335 

might  have  thought  so,  at  least,  as  you  listened  to  the 
comments  of  the  surgeons  around  the  field  hospital, 
where  his  comrades  finally  laid  him. 

"No  time  to  waste  on  men  that  are  done  for,"  said 
one. 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  Poor  man  ;  his  suffering  will  soon  be 
over,"  said  a  second. 

"Why,  good  heavens!"  said  a  third;  "put  your 
ear  here  yourself;  you  can  tell  the  ball  has  gone 
straight  into  his  lung.    What's  the  use  in  us  fooling?" 

Used  as  these  men  had  become  to  scenes  of  suffering, 
and  plying  their  vocation  of  mercy,  while  oaths  and 
jests  fell  from  their  lips,  Walter  Graham,  even  in  his 
condition,  could  distinguish  between  those  which  were 
the  result  of  mere  thoughtlessness  and  familiarity  with 
such  scenes  and  those  which  emanated  from  hardness 
of  heart  and  mere  wanton  cruelty;  as  was  the  case,  be 
it  said  for  the  credit  of  humanity,  with  only  one 
drunken  fellow  who  stumbled  over  his  legs,  giving  him 
a  kick  and  exclaiming  with  a  curse,  "Take  this  man 
away!  "  He  received  the  reprimand  of  his  associates, 
and  Walter  afterwards  learned  his  name  and  saw  to  it 
that  his  commission  was  taken  away. 

But,  our  blessings  sometimes  come  in  disguise.  This 
very  act  of  barbarity  called  the  attention  of  two  of  the 
doctors,  who  had  already  left  Walter  as  dying,  to  him 
a  second  time,  as  they  said,  "merely  for  the  purpose 
of  changing  his  position  and  giving  him  a  glass  of 
water,  and  making  him  as  comfortable  as  possible 
while  he  lasted,"  when,  one  of  them,  taking  a  second 
look  into  his  eyes  and  placing  his  hand  upon  his  pulse, 
said,  "Look  here,  let  us  examine  this  man  more 
closely   after  all ;   get  his  clothes  off  and  let   us  see 


336  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

where  this  ball  is  anyhow."  This  being  done,  the 
other  exclaimed,  "Why,  good  Heavens!  the  ball  has 
gone  clear  through  him,  that  is  in  his  favor." 

"Yes!  Yes!"  w^as  the  reply,  "  we  were  correct  in 
our  first  diagnosis,  as  far  as  we  went  ;  the  lung  has 
been  pierced  but  the  ball  is  not  lodged  there,  it  has 
gone  clear  through." 

"  That  is  in  his  favor,  as  you  sa}';  that  gives  him 
a  fighting  chance." 

"  Ha,  ha,  young  man,  j-ou  have  a  fighting  chance 
left  yet.  Here,  lay  him  over  on  this  side,  give  him 
close  attention  and  good  supportive  treatment ;  just 
let  nature  have  a  fair  show  and  he  may  live  j^et." 

By  this  time  Dr.  Cain,  whose  eyes  had  first  seen 
Walter  over  twenty-one  years  ago,  and  who  was  still 
in  the  service,  arrived.  He  examined  him,  confirmed 
the  statement  of  the  other  two  surgeons  and  told  him, 
in  response  to  his  request  to  conceal  nothing,  that 
while  he  had  a  chance  for  life  it  was  a  fighting  one, 
indeed  ;  that  from  this  moment  on  he  would  have  to 
fight  as  he  had  never  done  in  the  tempest  of  battle,  if 
he  meant  to  conquer. 

And  Walter  Graham  turned  his  face  over  on  his 
Ijlood-stained  coat  and  did  commence  from  that  moment 
the  stubborn  conflict  with  Death,  and  fought  for  six 
long  months  as  he  had  never  fought  in  the  tempest  of 
battle  before  it  could  be  safely  said  that  Death  was 
vanquished. 

Four  days  later,  as  he  lay  in  a  hospital  at  Washing- 
ton, awakening  from  a  brief  nap  induced  by  opiates 
and  exhaustion,  burning  with  fever  and  half  de- 
lirious, he  thought  he  saw  entering  the  door  a  female 
fi8:ure.     As  it  advanced  toward  his  bed-side  he  thought 


RETROSPECT.  337 

it  was  familiar  ;  he  opened  his  eyes  again  to  gather 
his  senses,  and  heard  the  gentle  words,  ' '  Walter,  do 
you  know  me  ?" 

Feebly  enough  he  replied,  "Yes,  mother,  I  know 
you." 

Nine-tenths  of  all  that  happened  from  this  time  on  in 
the  long  struggle,  you  can  imagine  just  as  correctly  as 
I  can  tell  you  ;  with  the  exception  of  one  thing  not 
always  understood.  Mrs.  Graham  experienced  more 
difficulty  in  being  admitted  to  see  Walter  at  all  times 
than  she  had  anticipated.  It  was  against  the  rules  for 
her  to  remain  constantly,  unless  as  a  regular  nurse. 

She  applied  at  once  to  the  Sanitary  Commission  to 
be  commissioned  as  one.  She  had  gone  to  Washing- 
ton to  nurse  her  son  until  he  got  well  or  died,  and  she 
was  not  to  be  baffled  in  her  purpose.  But,  meanwhile, 
she  took  a  shorter  and  more  effective  cut ;  she  went 
straight  to  Abraham  Lincoln  She  went  away  wdth  his 
signature  to  a  polite  note  to  the  proper  official,  which 
read,  "  Please  let  Mrs  Graham  have  constant  access 
to  the  hospital,  as  she  is  willing  to  help  generally 
with  all  the  sick.      A.  Lincoln." 

So  the  contest  between  life  and  death  went  on  for 
four  weeks  with  no  apparent  gain  for  Walter,  at  which 
time  he  motioned  to  his  mother  to  place  her  ear  close 
to  him,  and  he  said  :  "  Mother,  why  prolong  this  con- 
flict ?  Why  not  let  death  claim  the  victory  now  ? 
Life  is  not  worth  the  struggle.  I  can  go  so  happy  it 
3^ou  are  willing. ' ' 

Mrs.  Graham  laid  her  cheek  down  upon  his  hollow 
one  as  the  tears  trickled  down  over  it  and  said  :  ' '  Oh  ! 
Walter,  my  dear  boy,  I  do  not  like  to  be  selfish,  for  I 
know  how  ready  you  are  to  go,  but  don't  you  think 

15 


338  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

you  can  hold  on  a  little  longer?  The  doctor  said  this 
afternoon  your  wound  had  commenced  again  to  dis- 
charge healthy  puss  at  both  openings.  Don't  j'ou 
think,  my  dear  son,  you  can  try  once  more  on  our  ac- 
count ?  We  all  do  love  )'Ou  so,  and  something  told 
me  when  I  started  from  home  that  you  were  not  to  be 
taken  from  us  in  this  way." 

Walter  made  an  efifort  to  kiss  his  mother,  and  said  in 
a  whisper :  ' '  Mother,  I  will  try  once  more  for  your 
sake."  And  he  summoned  up  all  the  resolution  and 
vitality  that  were  left  and  renewed  the  battle  just  where 
he  began  it  more  than  four  weeks  before. 

At  the  end  of  three  more  weeks  there  seemed  to  be 
some  visible  gain  on  Walter's  side.  A  week  later  he 
called  his  mother  to  him  once  again  and  said:  ' '  Mother, 
dear,  won't  you  go  home  now  to  father  and  the  rest? 
I  have  passed  the  Rubicon  now — I  feel  it.  What  is  the 
use  in  sacrificing  one  life  to  save  another  ?  Won't  you 
go  home  and  take  a  rest  ?  " 

His  mother  took  his  hand  in  hers,  pressed  her  lips 
upon  his  forehead  and  said  :  ' '  Walter,  do  you  think  I 
would  leave  you  in  this  condition  ?  Yes,  you  have 
passed  the  Rubicon  and  are  safe,  but  only  by  my  staying 
and  constantly  watching  and  dressing  your  wounds 
regularly,  are  you  entirely  safe." 

Four  weeks  later  he  could  sit  up  a  little  in  bed,  prop- 
ped up  with  the  pillows;  but  Mrs.  Graham  said: 
"  Let  those  sores  once  heal  before  nature  has  succeeded 
in  throwing  off  all  she  wants  and  there  is  great  dan- 
ger yet." 

The  doctor  had  to  admit  that  her  view  of  the  matter 
was  really  the  correct  one,  and  she  still  staid. 

Two  weeks  later  he  could  sit  up  for  ten  minutes  at  a 


RETROSPECT.  339 

time  on  a  rocking  chair,  look  out  of  the  window  and 
see  the  autumn  leaves  putting  on  their  various  hues. 

He  would  say,  "  How  beautiful  it  must  be  now  out 
in  our  old  woods  at  home  and  up  the  meadow  and 
along  the  hill-side  by  the  dam.  The  chestnuts  must 
be  ripe.     I  expect  Joe  is  gathering  them.''' 

Two  weeks  later  he  could  walk  about  the  hospital 
for  five  minutes  at  a  time.  He  became  impatient  to  go 
home.  He  said,  "Why  don't  the  furlough  come?  I 
think,  mother,  we  had  better  take  your  plan,  since  you 
will  not  leave  me  ;  if  you  had  me  home,  you  could  get 
some  rest  and  take  care  of  me  at  the  same  time." 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  his  mother,  "  the  furlough  has 
been  ready  for  a  week,  but  I  have  not  felt  it  safe  as  yet 
for  you  to  start.  I  think,  perhaps,  in  a  few  days  now, 
we  can  start ;  then  father  will  come  down  and  help  us 
on  our  journey." 

"  Oh  !  for  mercy  sake,  don't  bring  the  whole  family 
down,"  replied  Walter.  "The  people  will  think  I  am 
a  poor  stick  if  I  can't  get  home  now  by  m3^self." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha,"  laughed  the  surgeon,  who  had  over- 
heard their  conversation. 

"You  need  not  be  afraid  of  any  one  calling  j-ou  a 
poor  stick.  Major,  for,  understand,  you  are  to  be  made 
a  major  before  you  return  home." 

"  No,  nor  you  need  not  be  ashamed  to  go  home  with 
your  father,  if  he  is  in  any  way  worthy  of  the  mother 
you  possess." 

"  I  am  not  ashamed  to  go  home  with  him,"  replied 
Walter  demurely. 

' '  I  am  ashamed  of  myself ;  besides,  we  will  delay 
here  until  after  the  election.  I  7nust  be  home  in  time 
to  vote  for  lyincoln." 


k 


340  WAI.TER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN, 

Mrs.  Graham  and  the  doctor  both  smiled,  Walter's 
mother  saying, "  Well,  I  think,  if  b}^  next  week  you 
still  have  been  gaining  strength,  and  the  weather  is 
favorable,  we  will  try  it." 

Next  week  they  did  try  it ;  and  although  Jacob  Gra- 
ham was  there  *to  help,  provided  with  cot  and  blankets 
and  pillows  that  he  had  brought  all  the  wa)'  from 
home,  to  make  a  temporary  bed  for  his  son  to  rest  on  in 
the  car,  as  his  strength  would  fail  him,  and  to  pay  all 
attentions  and  render  all  assistance  in  his  power,  that 
the  journey  might  not  be  too  fatiguing,  Walter  found, 
as  the  cars  rolled  up  to  the  station  at  Shocktown,  amid 
a  drizzling  autumn  rain,  that  once  again  his  mother's 
judgment  had  been  better  than  his  own,  and  that,  glad 
as  he  was  to  get  home,  they  had  undertaken  the  jour- 
ney quite  soon  enough.  He  was  far  from  being  as 
.strong  as  he  expected,  and  his  wounds  were  needing 
immediate  attention. 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  as  Walter  Graham  sat  that 
evening  taking  this  retrospect  to  himself  and  of  him- 
self, and  contrasting  it  with  his  present  happy  con- 
dition, that  he  should  pause  to  think  of  how  much  he 
had  for  which  to  be  thankful ;  that  he  should  feel  like 
shedding  a  few  tears  of  gratitude  ?  In  short,  as  he 
looked  about,  with  one  glance  over  the  whole  ground 
he  had  traveled,  the  experiences  he  had  undergone, 
the  sights  that  had  come  to  his  youthful  eyes  since  the 
night,  when  a  boy  of  eighteen,  he  told  his  mother  of 
his  intention  to  enlist,  until  the  day  he  was  brought 
home  in  the  cars  by  his  parents,  scarred  and  wounded, 
and  exhausted,  a  man  of  twenty-one,  he  asked  him- 
self whether  the  whole  thing  was  not  a  dream,  when 
he  had  awoke  from  his  slumber,  until  reason  reassured 
him  that  it  was  all  a  living  reality. 


RETROSPECT.  '  341 

Was  it  not  natural  for  him,  since  we  of  this  gen- 
eration who  have  lived  through  it  can  scarcely  realize 
it,  how  can  we  expect  those  who  succeed  us  to  under- 
stand it?  And  was  it  not  sound  philosophy  in  him  to 
reach  the  conclusion,  that  to  be  constantl}^  rehearsing 
it  was  but  to  call  one's  veracity  in  question,  and  that  to 
dwell  as  little  as  possible  upon  his  own  part  in  the  great 
drama  was  but  true  modesty.  Of  course  the  war  was 
far  from  being  over,  the  da}^  he  arrived  home  in  the 
the  rain  ;  for  six  long  months  of  stubborn  resistance 
still  remained,  in  which  the  sacrifices  of  eighty  thous- 
and more  lives  attested  the  desperation  of  the  Southern 
cause.  But  it  was  the  end  with  Walter  ;  so  far  as  he 
individually  was  concerned  5'ou  could  write  finis.  Of 
course,  he  was  far  from  being  well,  and  his  mother  far 
from  being  relieved  of  her  anxiety.  Indeed,  it  ran  well 
into  the  winter  before  the  physician  said  officially, 
"  The  wound  seems  to  be  healed  in  a  natural  way;  all 
danger  of  internal  gathering  is  apparently  over.  Of 
course,  that  lung  may  be  a  little  sensitive  for  a  long 
time,  but  I  should  say  now  we  are  out  of  the  woods." 
But  he  saw,  so  far  as  concerned  himself  in  his  retro- 
spect that  evening,  a  grand  ovation  rather  than  a  career 
of  suffering  during  the  fall  and  winter  thatifollowed  his 
return  home.  In  fact,  the  train  had  scarcely  stopped 
at  Shocktown  until  it  was  boarded  b}'  four  of  his 
original  comrades  who  had  enlisted  with  him  in  Com- 
j»  pany  G  of  the  Seventy-fifth,  namely,  Dave  Miller, 
ft  Jack  Matson,  Sam.  L,ong  and  Jake  Boyle,  all  of  whom 
B  were  home  now  by  reason  of  the  expiration  of  their  term 
B  of  service,  and  all  of  whom  had  been  with  him  on  the 
■     field   of    Cold   Harbor.     They  gathered   around   him 

i 


342  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

with  a  stretcher  they  had  prepared,  and  proceeded  to 
carry  him  out,  Walter  waving  his  hand  and  exclaim- 
ing with  more  force  than  was  beneficial  for  his  strength, 
"Oh!  no,  no,  my  dear  old  comrades  and  friends, 
don't  do  this.     I  can  walk  ;  I  can  walk." 

His  mother,  breaking  down  for  the  first  time,  said, 
"Walter,  you  will  have  to  submit,"  and  leaned  upon 
her  husband,  who  added,  "Yes,  Walter,  you  may  as 
well  surrender  to  the  boys  ;  let  them  have  their  way." 
His  comrades  all  saying  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Graham, 
"  You  are  to  go  directly  home  in  the  carriage  that  is  in 
waiting  for  you  ;  we  will  take  charge  of  Walter." 

They  carried  him  out,  laid  him  on  a  bed  of  straw  in 
a  covered  spring  wagon,  in  the  front  of  which  sat  his 
brother  Joe  and  Tom  Swave,  holding  the  horses.  The 
boys  all  got  in  and  the  team  started  slowly  towards  his 
home.  He  remembered  that  as  they  turned  the  corner 
by  Swave' s  store  a  group  of  school  boys  gave  three 
cheers  for  Major  Graham  ;  and  he  was  sure  he  heard  a 
couple  of  adult  voices  mingle  in  the  cry. 

He  remembered  that  they  carried  him  into  the  house, 
sat  him  down  in  the  old  arm  chair,  bade  him  farewell 
for  the  present  and  left  him  to  the  privacy  of  the 
family,  while  he  almost  choked  as  he  attempted  to 
thank  them. 

The  stream  of  callers,  the  daily  inquiries  and  friendly 
messages  that  poured  in  on  him  for  the  first  few  days, 
were  quite  enough  for  his  strength. 

A  week  later  he,  muffled  up  in  a  great  coat,  got  in 
the  back  .seat  of  the  carriage  with  his  father,  while 
Joe  drove  them  carefully  over  to  the  village  to  the 
election.    And  the  villagers  said,  "  What  a  sight,"  as 


\ 


RETROSPECT.  843 

he  walked  up  to  the  window  on  the  arm  of  his  father  ; 
with  a  government  bond  in  his  pocket,  with  unhealed 
wounds  upon  his  body,  with  feeble  step,  and  hands  as 
white  as  the  ticket  between  his  fingers,  to  deposit  his 
maiden  vote  for  Abraham  Lincoln.  . 

He  heard  some  by-standers  say  as  he  was  returning 
to  the  carriage,  "That  looks  mighty  different  from 
Jake  Boyle's  conduct.  I  think  if  I  had  been  like  him, 
out  in  the  war  and  been  wounded  at  that,  and  had  a 
brother  killed  in  it  besides,  I  would  have  the  credit  of 
it  now  ;  I  would  vote  the  way  I  shot. ' ' 

"Hush!  hush!"  said  Walter,  softly,  and  shaking 
his  head,  '  'Jake  has  been  a  good  soldier,  and  a  true 
patriot.  I  am  sorry  he  sees  things  as  he  does,  but  that 
is  his  privilege." 

Perhaps  it  should  be  stated  right  here  that  the  other 
Democratic  boys  who  enlisted  with  Walter — Sam. 
lyong,  Jack  Matson,  and  his  old  teacher,  Mr.  Wagner 
— they  were  all  casting  their  ballots  that  day  in  happy 
unison  with  himself ;  they  belonged  to  that  great  army 
whose  conversion  had  been  wrought  in  fire  and  battle. 
Though  Jake  was  the  only  one  who  adhered  through 
it  all  to  his  Democratic  moorings,  the  gentleman 
who  made  the  remark  about  him  belonged  to  the 
army  that  was  known  as  the  "Stay-at- Homes."  Thus 
even  Mr.  Williamson  was  heard  to  say  on  one  occa- 
sion, "The  'Copperheads'  and  '  Stay- at- Homes  '  do 
the  commenting  in  the  rear,  while  the  '  Black  Republi- 
cans'  and  'War  Democrats'  fight  the  battles  in  the 
front." 

But  Walter's  fall  and  winter  at  home  need  not  be 
further  described. 

I  need  not  stop  to  tell  how  the  reaction  that  followed 


344  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

both  for  him  and  his  mother  after  their  journey ,  began  to 
pass  safel}'  over ;  how  they  would  take  long  recuperating 
sleeps  every  morning ;  how  they  even  supplemented 
them  with  an  additional  nap  after  dinner  ;  how  his 
mother  would  say  to  him,  "Walter,  I  do  think  we 
will  have  to  run  a  race  to  see  who  can  sleep  the  longer." 

How  Sue  would  say,  "  I  think  the  judges  would 
have  a  hard  time  to  decide  which  was  the  winner." 

How  the  doctor  would  say,  "  L,etthem  sleep  on  ;  it's 
the  best  medicine  they  can  take." 

How  he  soon  began  to  take  great  interest  in  public 
affairs,  reading  the  paper  through  every  day  ;  how  he 
finally  got  to  walking  out  as  far  as  the  mill  every  day 
and  have  a  half  hour's  chat  with  Mr.  Jones,  the  mil- 
ler, and  the  neighbors  as  they  dropped  in. 

How  he  was  summoned  back  one  day  before  his 
visit  to  the  mill  was  finished  by  the  announcement 
that  there  was  a  young  gentleman  with  a  two  horse 
carriage  load  of  ladies  at  the  house  to  see  him  ;  how 
he  hurried  back  to  meet  Will.  Morton  and  Blanch, 
Cousin  Ida  and  her  Cousin  Emma  ;  how  he  thought 
their  visit  after  all  was  a  little  formal  ;  that  Blanch 
betrayed  just  a  little  of  her  early  coyness,  though  he 
could  see  she  was  the  same  natural  born  lady.  He 
was  at  a  loss  to  know  exactly  where  to  place  the  slight 
embarrassment,  upon  his  mother,  his  sisters,  himself, 
or  upon  the  other  visitors,  or  upon  Blanch  alone. 

But,  oh  !  the  long  happy  winter  nights  !  How  he 
would  sit  and  play  euchre  with  Tom  Swave  and  Dave 
Miller,  and  the  rest  of  the  family,  even  inducing  mother 
to  take  a  hand  sometimes.  How  he  would  play  checkers 
through  the  day  with  his  father  and  old  Mr.  Williamson 
when  he  dropped  in.  How  it  was  about  the  first  of  Febru- 
ary when  his  final  discharge  came,  all  unsolicited  on  his 


RETROSPECT.  345 

part.  Yes,  mustered  out,  with  the  rank  of  major,  for 
"physical  disability,  by  reason  of  being  shot  through 
the  left  breast  and  lung  at  the  battle  of  Cold  Harbor," 
and  not  yet  twenty-two  years  old.  Certainly  he  remem- 
bered how  Mr.  Williamson  remarked,  though  he  could 
not  believe  it,  "  lyay  it  away  safely,  it  is  worth  more 
to  you  than  any  farm  in  Jefferson  county."  And  he 
remembered  Tom  Swave  saying,  "  Didn't  I  tell  you, 
Walt.,  you  would  get  above  me  before  we  were 
through."  How  he  began  to  read  the  histories  of  the 
civil  war  that  were  already  beginning  to  appear  ;  how 
he  spent  an  hour  each  day  over  at  the  school  with 
Prof.  Baker,  who  so  kindly  allowed  him  to  recite  with 
the  L,atin  and  German  classes,  that  he  might  refresh 
himself  in  all  that  he  had  gone  over. 

How  the  professor  would  come  over  twice  a  week 
and  spend  an  evening  with  him  reading  the  magazines 
and  studying  Shakespeare.  How  he  smiled  and  said, 
' '  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  do  something  to  keep 
up;"  when  the  professor  told  him,  "Tom  has  been 
reading  Gibbon's  Rome  and  Dr.  Johnson  since  he  has 
been  home,  and  he  reads  well,  too  ;  the  only  thing  is 
it  is  a  little  difficult  to  get  him  at  it." 

How  the  early  longings  and  ambitions  of  his  youth 
began  to  revive  in  his  breast. 

How  he  had  hoped  to  have  had  a  thorough  education 
and  been  a  full-fledged  lawyer  at  the  bar  by  that  time, 
when  the  unforeseen  event  of  the  war  switched  him 
from  his  purpose. 

How  the  professor  told  him  he  was  yet  young  ;  that 
he  could  be  admitted  to  the  bar  just  in  the  path  he 
was  now  pursuing,  by  close  application,  if  he  would 
take  the  time  ;  or  that  if  the  meagerness  of  his  purse 


346  WALTKR   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

would  not  permit  of  his  going  through  the  older  and 
more  expensive  colleges  of  the  East,  as  Yale  or  Har- 
vard, he  could  have  a  preceptor  here,  and  take  the  law 
course  at  Ann  Arbor. 

How  delighted  he  was  when  his  father  came  in  one 
evening,  and  said  to  him  :  "I  have  been  to  Sharwood 
to-day.  Ex-Judge  Eatham  says  the  professor's  plan  is 
feasible.     He  will  take  you  as  a  student." 

I  know  it  is  useless  to  tarry  longer  to  tell  how  Wal- 
ter started  to  Sharwood  the  next  week  himself,  taking 
his  two  sisters  with  him  for  the  trip,  where  they 
all  called  upon  Miss  Eesher ;  and  he  upon  the  old 
judge,  with  whom  he  had  a  long  and  satisfactory  inter- 
view, and  whom  he  left,  feeling  satisfied  that  he  fully 
deserved  his  high  reputation  for  probity  and  upright- 
ness. How,  as  he  counted  over  his  fortune  that  day, 
the  accumulation  of  his  pay  in  the  army,  he  found  he 
was  pretty  rich  for  a  young  man  of  his  age,  after  all ; 
he  found  he  would  have  enough  to  pay  oflF  the  last  fi.ve 
hundred  dollars  of  his  father's  mortgage  ;  put  himself 
through  two  years  at  Ann  Arbor,  and  still  enough  left 
to  buy  his  mother  a  gold  watch,  a  sofa  for  the  parlor, 
a  little  present  for  Mary  and  Joe,  and  pay  Sue's  tuition 
one  term  at  the  normal  school. 

Surely,  he  never  felt  happier,  not  even  this  Sunday 
evening,  than  he  did  that  night  when  he  returned 
from  Sharwood  after  having  done  all  those  things. 

A  unique  picture,  indeed,  he  presented  two  weeks 
later  among  the  students  of  the  university.  Boys  who 
were  already  veteran  soldiers,  returning  to  school,  after 
the  war,  to  finish  their  education.  Lieutenants  and 
captains,  majors  and  colonels,  knocking  at  the  doors 


RETROSPECT.  347 

of  our  institutions  of  learning,  asking  for  a  little  time 
to  finish  up  what  they  had  unavoidably  postponed,  pre- 
sented a  novel  as  well  as  a  sublime  scene,  equalled 
only  by  the  cordial  welcome  with  which  those  insti- 
tutions received  them,  as  they  opened  their  doors,  say- 
ing, "  Pass  right  in,  gentlemen  ;  make  yourselves  per- 
fectly at  home  ;  plenty  of  room  for  all  such." 

And  Walter  was  perfectly  at  home,  as  he  found  lots 
of  similar  company,  not  the  least  notable  among  whom 
the  succeeding  term  was  his  remote  kinsman,  Wendell 
P.  Bolton,  who  was  one  of  the  few  early  enlistments 
who  participated  in  the  grand  review  of  1865,  and  was 
now  entitled  to  be  called  captain. 

But  this  is  a  digression  from  his  thoughts  as  he  sat 
that  Sunday  evening  on  the  log  at  th,e  saw-mill,  while 
the  soft  and  mellow  sunlight  rested  on  the  hillside, 
on  the  placid  waters  of  Silver  creek  and  the  little 
valley,  while  the  twilight  was  stealing  silently  on. 
When  he  was  a  lawyer ;  not  at  twenty-one,  but  at 
twent}'-four;  when  he  was  not  as  flush  in  cash  as  he 
was  at  twenty-one  ;  when  he  went  to  make  arrange- 
ments for  his  studentship  and  pay  his  parents  the  debt 
he  felt  he  owed  them  for  the  services  of  which  he  had 
deprived  them  before  he  was  of  age  ;  he  found  that  his 
calculation  as  to  expenses,  though  close,  had  been  cor- 
rect, for  he  could  still  look  into  his  purse  at  his  last  ten 
dollars,  two  of  which  his  preceptor  had  so  very  thought- 
fully told  him  to  have  ready  to  hand  to  the  court  crier 
to-morrow  when  he  was  admitted,  while  an  allowance 
of  three  more  for  contingent  expenses  on  his  trip, 
would  still  leave  him  five  dollars  and  his  profession 
and  the  happiest  man  on  earth.  Five  dollars  and  a 
good  profession  !     He  almost  exclaimed  aloud,  as  he 


348  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

looked  up  to  see  Tom  Swave  approaching  with  two 
gentlemen  by  his  side.  One  was  Sam.  Blair,  the  old 
engineer ;  and  the  other  was  little  Jake  Hoover,  as 
they  called  him,  in  the  years  gone  by.  Jake  was  one 
of  Walter's  and  Tom's  more  intimate  chums  when 
they  were  boj's,  and  he  had  not  seen  him  since  1861, 
when  he  first  enlisted  ;  he  was  delighted  to  see  him. 

Jake  had  enlisted,  it  will  be  remembered,  the  next 
summer,  with  Tom,  while  Walter  was  out,  had  gone 
through  the  whole  service  with  the  One  Hundred  and 
Seventeenth,  with  no  greater  misfortune  than  the  loss 
of  his  great  toe,  and  been  discharged  at  the  close  of  the 
war  while  Walter  was  at  college  ;  then,  having  tarried 
a  short  time  in  Shocktown,  had  gone  West,  where  he 
now  had  a  position  as  .second  freight  dispatcher  on 
one  of  the  trunk  lines  west  of  the  Mississippi. 

Sam.  Blair,  who  it  appeared  was  his  uncle,  had  now 
slipped  ofiF  with  him  while  Jake  paid  a  short  visit  to 
his  home. 

They  gave  such  favorable  accounts  of  the  openings 
of  the  great  country  beyond  the  Mississippi  and  the 
Missouri,  that  Walter  began  to  think  about  it,  but  the 
thought  of  his  fiv^e  dollars  onh'  in  connection  with  his 
profession  made  him  think  still  more. 

But  by  reason  of  that  singular  law  which  often  gives 
several  people  the  same  notion,  they  were  joined  by 
several  more  of  Walter's  old  schoolmates,  both  of  those 
who  had  been,  and  those  who  had  not  been  in  the 
armj^  whose  evening  strolls  had  led  them  towards  the 
Grahams  ;  and  the  subject  of  the  West  was  soon  sup- 
planted by  the  great  question  of  reconstruction. 

Jake  Boyle  said  he  had  enlisted  for  the  Union,  and 
fought  for  it,  and  was  willing  to  save  it  even  if  it  had 


I 


I 


RETROSPECT.  349 

to  abolish  slavery  in  the  states,  which  he  was  per- 
fectly frank  to  say  now  he  was  glad  had  been  done, 
but  he  could  not  see  that  there  was  any  necessity  for 
negro  suffrage  in  this  country  as  yet. 

Sam.  Blair  and  Jake  Hoover,  who  were  both  Repub- 
licans now,  said  they  did  not  exactly  understand  all 
that  was  meant  by  the  war  when  they  first  enlisted, 
but  still  Jake  said  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
he  was  ready  for  negro  suffrage,  since  he  saw  how  those 
old  ex-rebels  talked  out  in  Missouri. 

"  Well,  I  am  free  to  say  that  I  didn't  understand  it 
all  when  I  enlisted,"  said  Sam.  Long;  "but  I  cared 
nothing  for  that.  I  would  have  suppressed  the  rebel- 
lion let  it  cost  what  it  would  ;  but  I  don't  know  that  I 
would  have  voted  for  Lincoln,  even  the  second  time,  if 
I  had  thought  the  Republican  party  meant  to  let  the 
niggers  vote.  I  don't  exactly  believe  it  will  carry 
3'et." 

"Well,  sir,"  when  I  turned  Republican,"  said  Jack 
Matson,  "  I  meant  to  go  the  whole  length  ;  if  there  is 
no  other  loyal  element  in  the  South  to  reconstruct  on,  , 
I  say  let  us  take  the  niggers." 

Mart.  Bernard  and  Wilse  Long,  neither  of  whom  had 
been  engaged  in  the  service,  each  said,  "they  didn't 
suppose  anybody  exactly  foresaw  all  the  results  of  the 
war  when  it  commenced,  and  that  they  must  say  that 
if  it  had  been  known  that  it  was  the  intention  of  the 
Republican  party,  or  generally  believed  even  now  that 
it  was  the  intention  of  that  party,  to  adopt  negro  suf- 
frage, they  would  never  elect  another  President." 

"Well,  don't  you  know  what  Wendell  Phillips  says 
about  that  ?"  said  Tom  Swave.     "He  says,  'When  I 


350  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

see  a  man  halfway  down  Niagara  Falls,  I  don't  ask 
hira  his  intentions.'  " 

"  Yes,  and  besides,  don't  you  be  too  sure  that  Ben. 
Wade  and  Thad.  Stevens,  and  those  men  did  not  fore- 
see negro  suffrage  all  the  time  and  mean  it,  too," 
said  George  Miller. 

"Why,  certainly,"  said  Walter,  "and  I  tell  you 
I  am  in  favor  of  it,  squarely,  and  it  will  come  to  that 
just  as  surely  as  revolutions  never  go  backward.  Of 
course  old  Stevens  understood  it  all  the  time  ;  why,  he 
never  minced  words  about  it ;  he  commenced  advocating 
it  to  his  constituents  before  the  war  was  over.  No, 
he  had  no  other  thought  than  negro  suflfrage  in  his 
head  when  he  had  that  special  reconstruction  commit- 
tee of  fifteen  formed  with  plenary  powers." 

"Oh!  we  all  knew^  you  would  be  in  favor  of  it, 
Walt.,"  said  Jake  Boyle,  "and  I  think  you  are  entirely 
right ;  Old  Stevens  and  the  other  radicals  meant  it  from 
the  start,  and  that  w'as  what  he  was  after  when  he  had 
his  committee  of  fifteen  created,  with  despotic  powers, 
and  himself  at  the  head  of  it ;  that  is  the  kind  of  a 
committee  it  is,  or  rather  when  he  had  himself  made 
despot  for  a  while ;  and  I  am  only  afraid  you  are  right 
in  thinking  it's  going  to  pass.  The  only  hope  I  see, 
is  that  maybe  old  Stevens  will  die  ;  he  was  nearly 
dead  last  month,  when  Jack  and  I  were  at  Washing- 
ton ;  there  were  four  big  niggers  carrying  him  up  the 
steps  to  the  Capitol;  then  he  couldn't  walk." 

"Well,  '  four  big  niggers'  had  need  to  convey  him 
up  the  steps,"  replied  Walter,  "besides  that  very  fact 
in  itself  was  the  strongest  speech  he  can  make  in  ad- 
vocacy of  it.  It's  like  poor  Caesar's  wounds — it's 
dumb  eloquence.     No,  sir,  I  am  in  favor  of  forgiving 


RETROSPECT.  351 

the  South,  but  I  am  on  Greeley's  platform — 'universal 
amnesty,  impartial  suffrage.'  " 

"  Oh,  well,  if  the  niggers  had  a  vote  they  would  all 
vote  the  Democratic  ticket,"  said  Bob  lyong,  "it 
wouldn't  benefit  us  any." 

"  No,  nor  I  don't  believe  that,"  said  Walter.  "Oh, 
well,  who  lives  the  longest  will  see  the  most,"  said 
Tom  Swave. 

"Where  did  Dave  Miller  go?"  said  Jack  Matson, 
"  I  thought  he  was  here  with  us." 

"I  guess  he  went  on  to  a  more  attractive  place," 
said  Tom. 

The  boys  smiled  modestly,  while  Jake  Hoover  asked 
seriously,  "  Where  did  he  go  ?     I  wanted  to  see  him." 

"  Oh,  I  expect  you  could  find  him  up  at  our, house, " 
said  Walter,  with  a  slight  smile.  ' '  There  he  goes 
now,"  said  Bob,  "he  and  Mary,  walking  out  in  the 
orchard.  Wait  till  I  fire  this  green  apple  up  among 
the  trees  ;   it  will  kind  of  surprise  them." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  heard  something  of  that,"  said  Jake 
Hoover.  "How  is  it,  Walt.,  are  she  and  Dave  going 
to  be  married  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  wouldn't  wonder,"  said  Walter;  "you  had 
better  ask  them,  I  expect.    They  can  answer  best." 

"  Well,  Mary  seems  to  be  very  frank  about  it,"  said 
Mart.  Bernard  ;  "  she  said  it  at  our  place  the  other  day 
she  expected  to  be  mairied  this  fall." 

"Shows  she  is  a  sensible  girl,"  said  Sam.  Blair, 
"Why,  certainly,"  said  Jack,  "you  just  tell  her, 
Walt.;  and  you  can  tell  Dave,  George,  that  if  they 
don't  invite  all  the  old  Shocktown  veterans  to  their 
wedding  we  will  serenade  them." 


352  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  it ;  they  can  arrange  for 
themselves,"  said  WaUer. 

"If  we  had  Wagner  and  Flora  and  Pat.  here  now 
we  would  have  about  all  the  Shocktown  veterans, 
would  we  not  ? ' '  said  Wilse  Long. 

"Where  is  Pat.  keeping  himself".?  said  Jake 
Hoover,  "I  haven't  seen  him  yet." 

"  I  guess  he  is  out  electioneering  for  his  office,"  said 
Tom. 

Pat.,  by  the  way,  it  must  be  understood,  had  escaped 
uninjured  through  all  his  long  service  up  until  the 
battle  of  Five  Forks,  when  he  lost  his  right  arm 
above  the  elbow,  and  the  index  finger  of  his  left 
hand,  both  at  one  shot.  This  phenomenon  was  ex- 
plained by  the  fact  that  he  was  shot  while  in  the  act 
of  firing,  as  his  left  hand  was  raised  supporting  his 
musket,  the  ball  struck  the  finger  on  the  left  hand, 
passed  on  and  took  his  right  arm  off  about  half  way 
between  the  elbow  and  .shoulder.  That  he  was  in  a 
very  helpless  condition  with  no  means  of  support,  with 
aged  parents  unable  to  help  him,  was  beyond  question, 
and  elicited  considerable  sympathy  for  him  in  the 
neighborhood. 

This  conversation  awakened  the  further  fact  that  old 
Mr.  Williamson  had  said  to  him  only  the  week  before, 
over  at  Swave's  store,  in  all  seriousness,  that  he  should 
come  out  for  a  county  office  this  fall  :  Register  of 
Wills,  he  told  him. 

The  subject  was  new  to  most  of  the  boys,  includ- 
ing Walter.  It  was  discussed  by  them  in  its  various 
phases ;  Tom  telling  them  further  that  Mr.  Wilhamson 
said  his  qualifications  were  as  good  as  those  of  the  aver- 
age man  that  was  elected  to  those  positions  ;  that  they 


'  RETROSPECT.  353 

were  men  with  only  common  school  education,  which 
he  possessed. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  tar  that  sentiment  could  be 
depended  upon  in  the  county.  Of  course,  I  would  be 
very  glad  to  see  Pat.  benefitted  in  some  way,"  said 
Walter. 

Mart.  Bernard  said,  "Pat.'s  case  is  a  pretty  hard 
one,  and  I  understand  Williamson  said  that  every 
country  yet  had  paid  homage  to  her  wounded  soldiery, 
and  that  if  that  sentiment  was  rightly  managed  in  this 
case  he  looked  upon  Pat.'s  candidacy  as  feasible,  but, 
somehow,  I  am  not  so  sure  of  it.  And  then  another 
thing, — how  about  'Squire  Bowers  ?  He  is  a  candidate 
for  the  State  Senate  this  fall,  and  will  want  the  dele- 
gates from  the  township.  It  will  not  do  to  have  two 
candidates  from  this  township  at  the  same  time  ;  so 
you  see  there  is  a  difficulty  right  at  the  start," 

"  Well,  I  thought  the  government  did  claim  to  pro- 
vide for  a  man  in  Pat.'s  condition.  Don't  he  get  a 
pension  ? ' '  asked  Wilse  I,ong. 

"Yes,  he  gets  a  pension,"  said  Jake  Boyle.  "  But 
that  is  not  looked  upon  in  the  light  of  any  favor  on  the 
part  of  the  government ;  that  is  a  debt  in  his  case.  So 
far  as  the  feeling  of  gratitude  is  concerned  on  the  part 
of  the  people,  I  think  old  man  Williamson  is  entirely 
right ;  these  men  are  always  supposed  to  have  the 
preference.  I  think  you  Republicans  who  claim  to  be 
so  patriotic  owe  it  to  yourselves  to  push  Pat.'s  claims, 
since  he  professes  to  be  a  Republican  now,  I  believe." 

The  conversation  here  drifted  off  on  the  subject  of 
pensions,  in  which  it  was  incidentally  developed  that 
Tom  Swave  had  never  been  receiving  any  ;  to  which 
Jake  Hoover  exclaimed,  "  Well,  why  don't  you  apply 


354  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

for  one  ?  I  supposed,  of  course,  you  had  been  getting  a 
pension  all  this  time." 

Tom  replied,  "Somehow,  I  never  liked  the  idea  of 
asking  for  it.  In  fact,  I  have  not  thought  much  about 
it." 

"  And  then,  another  thing,"  he  continued,  "  I  don't 
know  but  you  may  even  carry  that  sentiment  too  far  ; 
already  you  hear  a  lot  of  these  substitutes  and  big 
bounty  fellows  that  enlisted  just  at  the  last,  and  who 
imagine  thty  have  some  rheiunatism  or  headache  they 
contracted  in  the  army,  talking  more  about  pensions 
than  anybody  else." 

Thus  this  little  band  of  veterans,  all  of  whom  had 
enlisted  in  the  early  stages  of  the  war,  and  all  of 
whom  held  honorable  discharges,  and  most  of  whom 
had  scars  upon  their  bodies,  discussed  that  evening  the 
propriety  of  pensions,  and  of  Pat.  McKnight's  candi- 
dacy for  a  county  office  ;  reaching  practically  this  con- 
clusion, that  a  man  as  badly  disabled  as  Tom  Swave 
might  ask  the  government  for  a  pension  without  low- 
ering his  self-respect,  and  that  if  a  grateful  people 
wished  to  elect  a  man  in  Pat.  McKnight's  condition 
to  a  lucrative  office,  it  certainly  did  not  behoove  them 
to  throw  cold  water  on  it. 

Of  course,  as  they  hadnot  been  able  to  foresee  all  the 
results  of  the  war  at  first,  so  they  had  not  powers  of  pen- 
etration that  evening  to  see  that  twenty-five  years  later 
both  sentiments  would  be  stronger  than  ever  ;  that  the 
most  difficult  man  to  defeat  for  a  public  office,  on  general 
principles,  would  be  a  disabled  soldier  ;  that  an  annual 
appropriation  of  ^150,000,000  would  be  required  to  pay 
our  pensions.  Neither  did  they  see  that  grave  philoso- 
phers, wise  statesmen  and  astute  politicians,  would  all 


RETROSPECT.  355 

be  saying,  "Well,  what  is  the  diiference  ;  both  senti- 
ments are  right,  by  nature  ;"  and  that  while  shysters, 
and  substitutes  and  big  bounty  men  who  enlisted 
at  the  last,  were  the  most  clamorous  for  pensions,  it 
would  be  said  for  even  them,  "You  must  remember 
they  enlisted  at  a  period  when  all  men  understood  the 
war  meant  danger,  and  that  the  capitalists  and  mil- 
lionaires of  the  country  were  quite  glad  to  have  them 
go  at  any  price  ;  and,  therefore,  what  is  the  use  in  a 
government  of  sixty-five  niillions  of  people  to  haggle 
about  paying  $150,000,000  a  year  to  the  men  who  saved 
it,  when  the  same  country,  with  not  half  the  population 
nor  half  the  wealth,  was  paying  $3,000,000  per  day, 
before  the  war  was  over,  to  suppress  the  rebellion  ?" 

Thus  this  little  band  dispersed  that  evening. 

As  Walter  wended  his  way  to  the  house  he  thought 
of  the  subjects  they  had  discussed  and  the  conclusions 
that  had  been  reached  at  that  informal  meeting.  He 
recapitulated  substantially  as  follows:  "  Dav^e  and 
Mary  are  to  be  married  this  fall  ;  his  old  comrades 
would  like  to  attend  the  wedding  ;  Pat.  McKnight  is  to 
have  a  county  office,  and  Tom  Swave  a  pension." 

But  the  thought  that  still  filled  his  mind  with  greatest 
satisfaction  was,  that  he  had  five  dollars  and  a  good 
profession. 


ft 


CHAPTER   XX 


irA/T/XG  FOR  CLIENTS. 


A  S  Walter  walked  through  the  principal  streets  of 
-^^  Sharwood  the  next  morning  after  his  admission 
to  the  bar,  looking  in  at  the  business  fronts,  he  won- 
dered if  these  firms  were  ever  involved  in  litigation,  and 
if  so,  could  he  ever  expect  to  represent  them  in  any 
material  matter  ?  In  short,  how  was  he  to  get  clients, 
was  already  engaging  his  attention.  He  had  always 
understood,  of  course,  that  he  had  to  commence  in  the 
Quarter  Sessions,  on  cases  which  afforded  no  very  as- 
tounding fees,  and  there  do  something  that  would 
arrest  the  attention  of  the  crowd,  either  by  his  aptness 
in  knowledge  of  the  law  or  by  forensic  eloquence.  He 
was  wise  enough  now  to  know  that  the  great  world 
around  him,  including  Sharwood,  with  her  five  and 
twenty  thousand  inhabitants,  and  Jefferson  county  with 
her  hundred  thousand,  knew  very  little  about  him  and 
cared  still  less.  Knowledge  of  this  fact  helped  him 
wonderfully  in  this,  his  fresh  start  in  life.  It  was  a 
capital  that  would  serve  him  long  after  his  five  dollars 
were  exhausted,  and  the  three  hundred  more  which  he 
was  obliged  to  borrow,  before  he  was  self-sustaining. 
Though  his  ambition  was  none  the  less  fervid,  his  en- 
thusiasm none  the  less  sanguine,  than  the  night  on 
which  he  addressed  the  citizens  of  Shocktown  on  the 
political  questions  of  the  day,  he  felt  certainly  he  was 
wiser.     Born  and  raised,  as  he  had  been,  in  Jefferson 


WAITING    FOR   CLIENTS.  357 

county, coming  as  he  did  from  a  good  family,  having  had 
had  as  many  opportunities  as  most  boys  of  his  age  to  ex- 
tend his  acquaintance,  and  with  his  old  army  associates 
thrown  in,  he  could  not  help  noticing  how  few  people  he 
recognized  that  morning  as  he  walked  the  streets.  If 
this  is  the  case  in  a  small  county  town  like  this,  he 
thought,  what  must  it  be  like  in  a  great  metropolis. 
How  was  he  going  to  make  his  personality  felt  in 
Jefferson  county  ?  How  was  he  to  reach  that  coveted 
top  where  the  crowd  was  not  ?  In  all  his  happiness, 
what  a  fine  thing  that  he  was  made  conscious  of  the 
insignificant  space  he  filled  in  the  community.  It  was 
not  for  him  to  be  walking  up  the  streets  of  Sharwood 
knowing,  scarcely  anj'  of  her  citizens.  It  was  for  her 
citizens  to  be  sajang,  "  there  goes  Graham,  our  distin- 
guished attorney,"  or  "Hon.  Walter  Graham,  our 
member  of  Congress."  It  was  not  for  him  to  sit  down 
and  ask  Jefferson  county  to  come  to  him.  It.  was  for 
him  to  go  to  work  and  inake  Jefierson  county  come  to 
him.  He  need  not  expect  Jefferson  county  to  come  all 
dressed  in  her  Sunday  attire,  begging  for  an  introduc- 
tion. She  was  probably  like  fortune,  a  little  stolid  and 
indifferent.  He  would  have  to  take  her  by  the  throat 
and  introduce  himself,  and  in  such  a  manner  as  would 
impress  her.  If  he  stood  now  too  long  upon  etiquette, 
or  waited  for  all  the  conventionalities  of  polished  society 
to  say  when,  he  would  wait  forever.  He  believed  as 
the  boj's  expressed  it,  that  he  "  would  be  left." 

Of  course,  he  knew  that  to  make  either  the  public  or 
Jefferson  county  come  to  him  he  must  convince  them 
that  he  could  do  something  for  them,  show  them  that 
he  had  something  to  sell  that  they  could  purchase 
nowhere  else  for  the  money,  and  now  what  he  wanted 


358  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

was  an  opportunity  to  exhibit  his  goods.  In  other 
words,  how  was  he  to  get  clients  ?  How  was  he  to  get 
a  start  even  in  the  criminal  courts  ?  If  he  could  only- 
get  some  friendless  prisoner,  charged  with  some  high 
crime  that  had  attracted  considerable  public  attention; 
that  would  be  his  opportunity.  He  would  give  the 
public  a  stunner  from  the  start,  cause  a  local  to  be  in 
the  papers  that  might  catch  the  eye  of  Blanch  and 
make  her  pause  even  yet  before  she  threw  away  such 
a  promising  young  attorney,  penniless  though  he  be, 
for  the  wealth  and  position  of  young  Herr  or  for  the 
agreeable  ways  and  genial  companionship  of  Tom 
Swave,  or  the  high  reputation  and  literary  tastes  of 
Dr.  Sherman.  As  for  young  Flowing  Mustache,  from 
New  York,  he  had  no  apprehensions.  He  felt  that 
Blanch  Morton  never  seriously  entertained  his  atten- 
tions for  a  moment.  Still  when  he  thought  of  Blanch 
it  was  then  that  the  slightest  shade  would  come 
over  his  spirits.  Surrounded  as  he  saw  himself  by  all 
these  dangerous  rivals  for  her  hand,  when  he  saw  her 
friendly  bearing,  her  kindly  manner  to  all  of  these, 
a  manner  which  he  knew  had  no  similarity  to  flirta- 
tion, and  was  only  natural  to  the  unselfish  nature,  he 
was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  conclusion  to  reach. 

He  knew  he  had  nothing,  as  yet,  on  which  to  main- 
tain her,  and  that  while  he  had  read  in  books  of  noble 
rich  girls  who  had  married  for  true  love  poor 
3'oung  men,  even  against  the  opposition  of  parents, 
where  are  the  cases,  he  thought,  exactly  like  this  in  real 
life?  Then,  again,  he  said,  even  if  she  does  love  me, 
(of  which  I  am  not  sure,)  I  have  no  right,  no  moral 
right,  to  ask  her  to  be  mine  until  I  can  show  her 
that   I  can  make  a  Iving,   at  least  for  myself.     Even 


WAITING    FOR   CLIENTS.  359 

if  she  were  to  accept  nie,  and  I  were  to  marry  her 
before  I  had  made  myself  self-supporting  or  able 
to  keep  her  anywhere  near  in  consonance  with 
her  present  station  and  ease  of  life,  who  can  say  that 
she  would  remain  happy  under  it  forever  ?  Of  course, 
she  would  suppress  every  emotion  and  try  to  be  so  for 
my  sake,  but  would  I  be  doing  right  to  her  to  lead  her 
through  that  path  ?  To  sit  down  and  live  a  life  of  ease 
and  energ3^-sapping  indolence  off  of  her  (even  if  Morton 
is  as  rich  as  some  people  estimate  him),  would  be  des- 
picable, not  to  say,  immoral.  To  become  a  kind  of 
tail  to  the  firm  of  Morton  &  Co  would  only  disgrace 
the  firm  and  humiliate  me.  I  would  have  no  taste  for 
that  kind  of  life,  would  only  chafe  and  fret  under  it 
and  be  in  the  way  of  some  competent  man.  With  Tom 
Swave,  even,  it  would  be  different.  He  has  a  talent 
for  pleasing  the  public,  and  would  really  be  useful  in 
such  a  capacity.  No,  I  love  Blanch  Morton  too  truly 
to  ask  her  to  make  any  such  sacrifice  for  me.  True, 
I  know,  sentiment  and  the  novels  say  engage  yourself 
to  her  now,  and  she  will  cheerfully  wait  until  you  make 
your  reputation  at  the  bar.  Yes,  and  so  thought  I, 
when  I  was  a  boy  of  eighteen,  but  I  am  a  man  now  of 
twenty-four,  and  supposed  to  have  a  man's  judgment, 
yes,  a  man's  resolution  and  fortitude  ;  therefore,  if  it 
is  not  for  me  to  ever  call  Blanch  my  own,  I  must  try 
and  bear  it.  It  is  only  in  books  that  we  read  of  hearts 
fading  away  and  going  to  premature  graves  under  such 
disappointments. 

It  is  not  for  men  in  real  life  to  be  crushed  by  such  a 
defeat.  I  can  go  on  through  life  without  her  as  best  I 
may,  loving  her  all  the  same,  but  hiding  it  securely 
from  her.     Yes,  both  she  and  her  father  have  a  right 


360  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

to  see  that  I  make  something  of  myself;  that  I  do 
something  worthy  of  such  a  jewel  before  I  ask  for  it. 
Of  course,  all  this  must  stimulate  me  to  try  the  harder 
to  succeed  before  she  is  irretrievably  lost,  for  I  know 
that  delay  is  dangerous.  It  is  not  in  the  reason  of 
things  for  one  of  her  strong  sympathetic  nature  to  go 
on  forever  without  bestowing  her  affections  somewhere, 
especially  with  all  the  opportunities  that  will  be  con- 
stantly offering.  Oh,  if  I  were  only  sure,  absolutely 
sure,  that  I  would  succeed  in  any  reasonable  time,  how 
soon  would  I  test  the  question  of  her  affections. 
Though  failure  has  not  been  a  part  of  my  programme 
in  any  shape  or  form,  what  if  after  all  that  unseen 
and  subtle  influence  which  sometimes  sends  one  young 
man  to  distinction  and  another  to  obscurity  in  his  pro- 
fession without  any  apparent  cause,  should  be  against 
me,  then  where  would  I  have  placed  poor  Blanch, 
especially  if  Morton  should  lose  his  fortune, 
through  any  unforeseen  contingency,  such  as — as — as 
—for  instance,  Will,  getting  a  little  too  fast.  No,  no, 
I  must  fight  for  a  year  at  least,  at  the  end  of  which 
time  I  can  have  seme  little  conception  of  what  I  may 
expect,  and  whether  Blanch  is  actually  engaged  to  any 
of  her  other  plausible  suitors. 

Oh,  Walter  !  you  reason  well,  yet  so  poorl}' — poorly, 
because  blindly— too  blind  to  see  that  all  through  those 
weary  months  of  suffering  and  untold  anxiety  that  she, 
for  whose  comfort  and  happiness  you  have  this  day  so 
devoutly  prayed  and  who  bears  the  hallowed  and  sacred 
name  of  mother,  was  not  the  only  one  who  sent  you  a 
woman's  sympathy  and  a  woman's  love  through  every 
pulse-beat  and  every  moment  of  your  pain,  but  who 
unlike   her,    was  obliged  to   bury   it  all   in   her  own 


WAITING    FOR   CLIENTS.  361 

breast,  because  of  the  conventionalities  of  the  world 
and  that,  too,  at  a  time  when  she  felt  surer  of  your  love 
than  she  does  this  minute.  Poorly  have  you  reasoned, 
because  she  knew  as  unerringly  as  a  woman's  in- 
stinct could  tell  her  that  she  had  your  heart  at  that 
time.  It  was  too  recently  that  you  nearly  frightened 
her  out  of  her  senses  by  your  profuseness  and  warmth, 
which  made  her  fear  3'ou  were  going  to  propose  to  her 
in  the  presence  of  her  friends  at  an  evening  party, 
not  to  know  what  your  feelings  were  toward  her  then. 
Your  own  reticent  conduct  toward  her  had  not  rai.sed 
doubts  in  her  mind  then  as  it  has  since.  Perhaps  you 
are  excusable  to  some  extent  for  the  way  your  reason- 
ing misses  its  mark,  because  it  was  impossible  for  you 
to  know  that  though  her  mind  was  not  ready  to  give 
you  an  affirmative  answer  the  night  of  your  zeal  at  the 
party,  there  has  never  been  a  moment  since  she  dropped 
the  letter  to  you  three  years  ago  to-day,  but  that  you 
had  but  to  open  your  mouth  and  she  would  have  been 
yours.  But  why  were  you  too  stupid  to  note,  the 
day  she  came  to  see  you  after  you  came  home,  that  she 
was  straining  every  nerve  to  its  utmost  tension  to  sup- 
press her  emotions  ;  that  she  was  evidently  afraid  to 
trust  herself,  while  you,  by  your  own  embarrassment, 
made  the  visit  heavy  and  formal.  •  How  erroneously 
you  have  reasoned,  (though  nobl}^  it  is  true),  in  not 
wishing  to  bind  her  down  under  circumstances  for 
which  she  might  suffer  mental  reservation.  She 
should  be  the  judge  of  that  herself;  she  would  prefer 
to  go  along  with  you  through  all  the  journey  of 
life,  without  the  slightest  regard  for  any  advensit}'  that 
could  come  to  either  you  or  her  father,  if  you  would 
but  treat  her  kindly.  What  a  great  satisfaction  it  would 
16 


302  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

be  to  her  to  know  your  mind,  that  she  might  wait 
cheerfully.  She  regards  you  as  having  already  done 
those  things  which  make  you  worthy  of  the  love  of 
any  girl  on  earth  ;  she  thinks  it  is  judges  and  jurists 
that  should  stand  and  uncover  before  you,  as  you 
enter  their  presence,  not  you  before  them  ;  she  would 
love  to  share  your  toils  and  support  you  with  her 
sympathy,  as  you  strive  on  to  achieve  that  success 
which  you  so  modestly  think  you  have  to  win  before 
you  are  deserving. 

There  is  one  truth  you  did  utter,  however,  Walter, 
in  your  mental  soliloquy  that  morning,  namely, 
"  Delay  is  dangerous.  It  is  not  in  the  reason  of  things, 
for  one  of  her  sympathetic  nature,  to  go  on  forever 
without  bestowing  her  affections  somewhere. ' '  Beware, 
oh,  Walter,  lest  amid  your  philosophizing  you  lose 
forever  what  flaming  youth  has  won  for  you  long  ago  ! 
Remember  the  over-ripe  fruit  which  hangs  ungathered 
by  its  rightful  owner  always  invites  the  hands  of 
strangers.  But  his  cogitations  could  not  last  forever  ; 
for  now  as  he  had  already  walked  three  squares  to  his 
left  and  four  to  his  right,  well  nigh  to  the  outskirts  of 
the  city,  they  were  broken  by  a  voice  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street,  which  exclaimed,  "  Halloa,  Graham, 
is  that  you  ?  ' ' 

"Halloa,  to  you,"  responded  Walter,  as  he  crossed 
over  to  the  gentleman  who  had  saluted  him,  "why 
this  is  not  Dan  Potts,  is  it  ?  Our  old  commissary  ser- 
geant ?  " 

"That's  who  it  is,  if  you  look  right." 

"Well,  I  do  say!  How  are  a'ou  coming  on,  any- 
how ? ' '  replied  Walter. 

' '  O,  first-rate, ' '  said   Potts.     ' '  I  am  living  here  in 


WAITING  FOR   CLIENTS.  363 

town  now  ;  I  am  clerk  at  the  prison.  I  heard  that  you 
were  reading  law,  about  ready  to  be  admitted.  Well, 
in  fact,  I  saw  you  the  other  evening  walking  up  the 
street.  You  were  past  a  considerable  distance,  when 
Sam.  Lukens  said  to  me,  'Do  you  know  that  young 
man  there,  going  along  by  the  hotel  ? '  I  said,  '  No,  I 
can't  see  his  face  rightly.'  Then  he  told  me  it  was 
you,  and  all  about  you.  In  fact,  I  had  heard  about  what 
became  of  you,  after  I  was  discharged.  I  don't  think 
I  ever  saw  you  after  the  battle  of  Missionary  Ridge. 
lyCt  me  see,  you  •  were  badly  wounded  after  that, 
believe.  I  saw  old  Colonel  Dodge  the  other  day.  He 
told  me  that  Captain  Painter,  of  Company  A,  was  get- 
ting up  a  correct  history  of  our  old  regiment.  He 
seemed  to  know  all  about  you,  and  everybody  else. 
Well,  how  are  you  coming  on,  anyhow  !  Are  you 
almost  ready  to  be  admitted  to  practice  ?  ' ' 

Walter  smiling  on  his  old  comrade  with  all  the  cordi- 
ality that  he  could  have  desired,  answered  his  ques- 
tions cheerfully,  saying,  "  Oh,  I  am  getting  along  first- 
rate  too ;  I  was  admitted  to  the  bar  this  morning. 
Just  waiting  for  clients  now." 

"Is  that  so,"  replied  his  friend;  "allow  me  to 
shake,"  taking  Walter  by  the  hand.  "Let  us  walk 
back  toward  the  hotel.  There  may  be  some  of  our  old 
fellows  down  from  Campton  to-day  ;  they  often  come 
in  on  Monday."  "Yes,  if  I  remember  rightly,  that 
was  your  old  section,  Campton,"  replied  Walter. 

"  Yes,  sir,  that  is  my  old  home." 

' '  You  and  I  are  from  pretty  nearly  opposite  extremes 
of  the  county  then,"  replied  Walter. 

"Yes,  I  guess  so,"  replied  Potts;  "you  were  from 
out  about  Shocktown,  were  you  not  ?     Do  you  know  I 


364  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

had  the  address  at  one  time  of  pretty  nearly  every 
fellow  in  our  compan}-.  Oh,  by  the  way,  do  you  know 
that  just  makes  me  think  of  something.  I  know 
where  you  can  get  a  client  right  away.  There  is  a 
darkey  from  out  in  your  section,  by  the  name  of 
Maybourn,  in  jail  now.  He  has  no  attorney.  He 
was  only  brought  in  last  week  for  stealing  a  coat,  I 
think.  There  was  a  man  in  from  that  section  to  see 
him  this  morning,  by  the  name  of  Wood  ;  one  of  your 
solid  men  out  there,  is'nt  he?  " 

* '  I  know  an  old  colored  man  b}-  the  name  of  May- 
bourn,"  replied  Walter,  "  over  in  Hampton  township. 
He  owns  a  little  property,  and  so  does  his  son  Joe, 
the  fiddler.  But  that  is  three  or  four  miles  from  our 
place,  and  I  have  always  understood  they  were  very 
worthy  people.  I  do  not  know  why  it  should  be  any 
of  that  family.  But  that  is  where  Daniel  Wood  comes 
from.  He  is  a  very  solid  man,  as  you  say."  "Well, 
sir,  that  is  the  family  anyhow;  that's  it,  sir,"  replied 
Potts.  "  He  told  me  about  his  grandfather  owning  a 
property,  and  his  uncle,  too,  the  fiddler.  Yes,  he  said 
the  old  man  raised  him  ;  that  he  had  money  and 
would  give  a  nice  fee  to  a  lawyer.  You  come  out 
after  dinner  and  I  will  get  you  that  case  " 

Walter  replied  that  he  did  not  know  exactly  what 
to  sa}-  about  it.  He  was  anxious  to  get  a  start,  that 
was  certain,  but  he  had  always  understood  it  was  not 
professional  to  solicit  business. 

"  Well,  that  is  all  right,"  replied  his  friend  ;  "Ain't 
I  getting  }'ou  into  this  job,  and  besides  don't  I  see 
other  young  lawyers  out  there  drumming  up  clients, 
having  the  underkeepers  working  for  them,  and  every- 
thing else?  " 


WAITING   FOR   CI.IENTS.  365 

"  Well,  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,"  replied  Walter. 
"I  will  think  about  it,  and  likely  I  will  come  out  to 
the  jail  after  dinner." 

After  Walter  had  parted  with  his  friend,  he  walked 
rapidly  ..to  the  office  of  his  preceptor,  where  he  found 
the  old  judge  buried  among  a  lot  of  books  and  making 
some  annotations  occasionally  on  a  sheet  of  legal  cap. 
As  he  approached,  smiling,  the  old  judge,  without  rais- 
ing his  head,  but  merely  turning  his  eye,  spoke  first, 
saying  blandly,  "  Well,  how  does  it  go  being  a  lawyer 
by  this  time  ?  ' ' 

"Oh  !  grand,  grand,"  replied  Walter, who  then  related 
the  whole  circumstance  of  his  prospective  client  to  the 
judge  and  asked  him  if  it  would  be  right  for  him  to  go 
to  the  jail  to  secure  him  under  such  circumstances. 

The  judge  replied,  "Yes,  3'ou  are  not  supposed  to 
run  along  the  corridor  from  cell  to  cell  hunting  up 
clients.  But,  if  your  friend  introduces  you  to  this 
man,  and  he  has  no  other  attorney,  and  suggests  no 
other  one,  it  is  perfectly  proper  for  you  to  undertake 
his  case." 

Walter's  mind  was  greatly  relieved  by  the  judge's 
remarks,  and  accordingly  after  dinner  he  moved  with 
alacrity  towards  the  jail.  He  had  never  been  inside 
of  one  before.  As  the  great  iron  gates  opened  to 
receive  him,  and  he  was  introduced  to  the  jailer  by  his 
friend  in  his  official  capacity,  as  he  moved  along  the 
corridor,  looking  through  the  bars  and  peep  holes 
of  the  cells  at  the  prisoners  behind  them,  a  strange 
sensation  came  over  him.  He  thought,  "  What  a  dis- 
mal place  this  would  be  to  have  to  spend  one's  time. 
Verily  'the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard,'  and  yet, 
just  think  of  it,  innocent  men  have  had  to  undergo 


366  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

this.  What  chance  would  they  ever  have  for  escape 
from  behind  such  bars  and  bolts  !  "  For  a  moment  he 
almost  forgot  the  capacity  in  which  he  was  there  him- 
self, though  perhaps  he  never  felt  the  power  and 
importance  of  his  office  as  attorney  more  than  when 
the  keeper  finally  stopped  before  one  of  the  cells  and, 
rattling  his  great  bunch  of  keys,  proceeded  to  unlock 
one  of  the  heavy  iron  doors,  saying,  "Can  you  talk 
to  him  all  you  want  through  the  hole,  or  shall  I  let 
5'ou  inside?  Halloa!  Maybourn,  here  is  a  lawyer  for 
you.  lyCt  me  see,  your  name  is  Graham,  I  believe," 
turning  again  to  Walter,  as  he  introduced  him  to  the 
prisoner. 

The  prisoner  advanced  toward  the  door,  sticking  his 
head  pretty  well  through  the  aperture  which  it  about 
filled,  and  said,  "Sir,  you  are  young  Graham,  ain't 
you  ?  Mr.  Potts  told  me  about  you.  Yes,  I  would  like 
to  have  a  little  private  conversation  with  you." 

Walter  said,  "Yes,  my  name  is  Graham,"  and  then 
stepping  up  a  little,  more  confused  than  the  prisoner, 
and  looking  around  at  the  keeper,  who  had  stepped  a 
few  paces  to  one  side,  dangling  his  keys,  and  who  replied 
to  his  unuttered  inquiry,  "Well,  here,  I  guess  I  had 
better  let  you  inside.  Now,  you  can  go  in  and  talk  to 
him  all  you  wish,"  opening  the  inside  door. 

Walter  walked  into  the  cell,  heard  the  great  spring 
lock  click  shut  behind  him,  and  the  keeper's  words : 
"When  you  are  ready  to  come  out,  just  tap  on  the 
bars  here  with  your  knife. ".'  He  then  listened  to  his  re- 
ceding footsteps  dying  awa}^  in  the  distance,  and  again 
a  peculiar  sensation  came  over  him,  not  one  in  any  way 
connected  with  fear,  but,  somehow,  such  a  queer  feel- 
ing, and  he  remarked  to  his  client,  "  Well,  now,  I  sup- 


WAITING    FOR   CLIENTS.  -367 

pose,  I  am  about  as  thoroughly  caged  as  you."  "  Yes," 
said  the  prisoner,  "  with  a  great  difference  between  us, 
however.  The  tap  of  a  pen-knife  lets  you  out,  but  God 
knows  what  kind  of  taps  it  will  take  to  let  me  see  the 
sunlight." 

At  this  remark  Walter  looked  into  the  eyes  of  his 
first  client,  for  a  second  survey  of  him,  and  thought, 
"  Halloa  !  you  are  a  man  of  considerable  intelligence. 
I  doubt  if  you  are  here  through  your  own  stupidity,  at 
least." 

The  pri.soner  then  went  on  to  tell  him  how  it  was  that 
he  was  suspected  of  stealing  this  coat,  giving  a  very 
plausible  story  of  how  it  happened  one  night,  as  he 
went  across  the  river  with  some  friends,  at  Swinton. 

He  pretested  his  innocence,  told  Walter  what  could 
be  proven  by  different  witnesses,  and  that  it  was  true 
he  was  a  grandson  of  the  very  respectable  old  colored 
man,  whom  he  knew,  and  a  nephew  of  Joe  Maybourn  ; 
that  they  would  take  great  interest  in  his  case  ;  that  he 
should  go  to  the  old  man  and  he  would  give  him  five 
dollars  as  a  retainer,  and  that  he  should  have  fifteen 
more  if  he  succeeded  in  clearing  him. 

Walter  noted  down  carefully  the  strong  points  in 
his  stor}',  tapped  in  due  time  with  his  knife  on  the 
bars,  heard  the  advancing  footsteps  of  the  keeper, 
bade  his  client  goodbye,  walked  out  of  the  cell  as  the 
door  opened,  and  a  moment  later  was  out  on  the  street, 
in  the  highest  state  of  ecstasy,  "What  great  good 
luck  is  this  that  has  come  to  me  so  soon,"  he  thought. 
He  could  get  that  fellow  off,  beyond  a  doubt.  True, 
he  remembered,  that  while  the  old  judge  had  told 
him  it  was  perfectly  proper  to  go  to  see  this  man,  that 
he  should  not  put  too  much  confidence  in  his  story  ; 


368  WALTER   GRAHAM,  STATESMAN. 

but  the  judge  knew  nothing  about  the  merits  of  this 
case.  Look  what  a  respectable  family  he  comes  from, 
how  I  can  prove  good  character  in  addition  to  the  other 
strong  points  of  his  case,  and  then  just  think  of  the 
financial  feature  of  the  case,  a  five  dollar  retainer,  cer- 
tain, and  fifteen  more  if  I  clear  him  ;  they  are  as  good 
as  certain,  too.  This  looks  as  though  I  would  be  self- 
sustaining  from  the  start.  Father  will  be  agreeably 
surprised,  won't  he  ?  Yes,  I  will  see  old  man  May- 
bourn  early  in  the  morning,  get  my  five  dollars  retainer, 
and  have  him  help  me  work  up  the  case. 

Thus  ran  Walter's  second  mental  soliloquy,  as  he 
took  another  long  walk  around  the  town,  stopping  to 
see  the  old  judge  long  enough  to  tell  him  his  hopeful 
story,  to  which  he  smiled  pleasantly  and  said,  inter  alia, 
"You  have  not  examined  these  witnesses  as  yet ;  I  sup- 
pose you  do  not  know  of  your  owni  knowledge  that 
they  will  testify  exactly  as  he  says." 

"  No,  no,  I  have  not,"  replied  Walter  ;  "  but  then  I 
have  not  much  doubt  in  the  ca.se,  in  fact,  if  half  he 
says  is  true  he  has  a  strong  defence."  And  thus  he 
started  off"  for  another  w^alk  which  took  him  in  the 
direction  of  the  depot,  when  he  was  seized  by  another 
happy  thought,  namely,  that  he  was  just  in  time  to 
take  the  three  o'clock  train  for  Mansdale,  which  would 
give  him  two  hours  at  Morton's,  before  the  next  train 
for  Shocktown  arrived.  To  this  impulse  you  know, 
of  course,  he  yielded. 

He  had  not  been  at  Morton's  for  some  time.  His 
greeting  was  cordial,  almost  warm.  Cousin  Ida  re- 
ceived him  with  such  a  hospitable  smile  and  pleas- 
ant,— "Why,  Walter  Graham,  is  this  you?  We  had 
almost  forgotten  what  you  looked  like."    Aunt  Mary 


WAITING    FOR    CLIENTS.  369 

seemed  as  young  and  vivacious  as  one  of  thirty- 
five.  Blanch  came  tripping  in  from  the  dining-room 
with  searching  gaze  and  benignant  smile,  as  she  said, 
"  Well,  is  this  our  young  lawyer  come  to  present  him- 
self at  last?  You  are  a  lawyer  now,  are'nt  you, 
Walter?  "  she  continued,  still  holding  his  hand.  "  We 
heard  you  were  to  be  admitted  to-day." 

"Yes,  yes,"  was  his  cheerful  reply,  with  a  dozen 
other  matters  thrown  in,  as  they  all  ensconced  them- 
selves in  rocking  chairs  on  the  old  front  porch  looking 
out  over  the  great  green  world.  How  unfeigned  their 
congratulations  seemed  to  be ;  how  he  told  them  of  his 
experiences  with  his  client.  Aunt  Mary  said,  "So 
you  are  just  out  of  jail,  are  you  ?  "  Ida  said,  "Well, 
is  not  that  highl}^  encouraging  for  the  time  you  have 
been  admitted  to  the  bar?"  Blanch  said,  with  her 
inimitable  latent  humor  and  kindness,  "Indeed,  has 
not  your  career  as  a  lawyer  thus  far  been  a  phenomenal 
success  ? ' ' 

"I  am  inclined  to  think  it  has,"  replied  Walter. 
"  Of  course,  one  can  judge  better  after  the  trial  of  my 
first  client.  But  indeed,  I  am  sure  it  will  be  a  success, 
when  I  reflect  that  I  am  certain  to  do  better  with  him 
than  my  distinguished  preceptor,  Judge  lyatham,  did 
with  his  first  client.  His  first  client,  he  tells  me,  was 
hung,  and  his  second  one  went  to  jail  for  life.  Now 
the  worst  that  can  come  to  mine  will  be  imprisonment 
for  a  few  3'ears. ' ' 

"And  I  see  now,  myself,  that  you  are  destined  to  be 
a  distinguished  lawyer,  by  the  way  your  wit  sparkles 
and  your  humor  flashes  out,"  replied  Blanch.  "It  is 
almost  equal  to  Ida's." 


370  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"Or  to  her  own,  she  should  say,"  exclaimed   Ida. 

"  Or  to  Aunt  Mary's,"  said  Blanch. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Walter,  "among  such  a  bril- 
liant company  it  would  be  hard  to  say  whose  wit  did 
excel." 

"Just  so,"  replied  Blanch,  "I  believe  the  easiest 
thing  we  could  do  would  be  to  turn  this  into  a  mutual 
admiration  societ}-." 

And  a  mutual  admiration  society  it  certainly  was, 
Walter  and  Blanch  both  struggling  to  hold  it  within 
those  bounds,  Walter,  if  anything,  a  little  harder  of 
the  two.  The  time  flew  pleasantly  and  he  was  so  at 
ease  in  Blanch's  presence.  There  was  no  doubting  the 
sincerit}'  of  her  friendship  ;  rather  now  to  keep  it  from 
ripening  into  something  stronger,  before  he  was  able 
to  protect  her,  was  the  great  struggle  of  will  against 
inclination.  And  yet,  what  a  perceptible  change  came 
over  him  in  that  respect  when  she  told  him  she  was 
talking  of  going  to  Europe  this  summer,  to  start  in 
two  -weeks. 

He  made  haste  to  say,  with  an  effort  which  he  knew 
she  observed,  "  Why.  that  will  be  nice,  I  am  sure.  It 
is  now  my  turn  to  congratulate  you.  Who  is  going 
with  you,  and  what  is  your  route  ?  " 

"  O,  I  don't  know  for  certain  that  I  will  go  yet.  It 
is  one  of  those  one  hundred  day  excursions  that  take 
their  professional  guide  and  instructor  with  them. 
Ida  and  I  are  invited  along.  The  company  will  be 
composed  of  a  dozen  or  twenty.  Several  of  our  old 
Vassar  schoolmates  talk  of  going  ;  Professor  Light- 
ner,  Dr.  Sherman  and  others  ;  I  cannot  recall  them  all 
just  now." 

"  Then  j-ou  are  going,  too,  Ida  ?  "asked  Walter. 


WAITING    FOR   CLIENTS.  371 

"  No,  I  do  not  think  I  need  be  counted  in  the  num- 
ber," rephed  Ida.  "The  capacity  of  my  purse  will 
hardly  warrant  it." 

"  Don't  you  think  she  ought  to  waive  that  objection 
if  a  friend  offers  to  pa}'  her  bills  for  her  ?  "  said  Blanch, 
"  and  especially  if  I  want  her  to  accompany  me." 

"  I  think  if  you  wish  her  to  go  with  you,  she  ought 
to  give  the  matter  great  consideration." 

"It  is  very  kind  of  you  all,  I  am  sure,"  said  Ida, 
"but  I  should  feel  all  the  time  as  if  I  were  imposing 
on  good  nature,  and  further,  that  it  would  not  be 
right  for  us  both  to  go  and  leave  mother.  I  suppose 
you  could  guess  within  two  guesses  who  the  good 
friend  is  who  offers  to  pa}-  all  bills,  and  I  am  sure  I 
appreciate  it,  but  I  do  not  feel  that  I  ought  to  go  as 
yet." 

Blanch  blushed  a  little  at  the  suggestion  of  who  the 
good  friend  might  be,  and  said,  "  Ida  cannot  leave  her 
mother  that  long,  and  father  cannot  spare  me  that 
long,  so  I  reckon  neither  of  us  will  go.  We  will  have 
to  send  Aunt  Mary,  I  guess.  You  will  have  to  decide 
for  us,  Walter.     What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"  O,  I  suggest  that  you  all  go,"  said  Walter,  at 
which  their  conversation  ran  into  a  general  colloquy 
about  the  trip  in  detail,  the  pleasures  to  be  derived 
from  it,  the  scenery  and  historic  interest  of  Europe  as 
compared  with  America,  all  of  which  it  is  useless  to 
give.  Nor  is  it  necessary  to  dwell  on  the  considerate 
attention  bestowed  upon  Walter  by  Will,  and  Mr. 
Morton  at  the  supper  hour ;  how  he  was  about  to  leave 
abruptl}'  to  take  his  train  when  Mr.  Morton  insisted 
that  he  should  stay  and  take  tea  with  them,  saying, 
"There  will   be  ways  to  get  home;    I  will  go  your 


372  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 


security  for  that.  Will,  will  want  a  drive  this  evening 
He  did  stay  and  enjoy  the  meal  with  the  family; 
and,  after  supper,  Will,  declared  to  the  girls  that  he 
had  an  imperative  engagement  elsewhere  that  evening 
and  that  they  would  have  to  take  Walter  home. 
The  girls  said,  "  That  is  right.  We  were  just  wanting 
a  ride  at  any  rate  ;  ' '  and  they  started  with  Abe  and  the 
carriage  about  sundown  to  give  Walter  a  lift  on  his 
waj'.  They  all  enjoyed  that  drive.  They  talked  so 
confidingly  and  easily  to  each  other  ;  and  Walter  told 
them  all  about  Mary's  going  to  be  married  ;  that  she 
was  marrying  a  worthy,  intelligent,  honest  man,  a 
good  mechanic  with  a  good  business  ;  that  he  was 
building  a  pretty  little  cottage  for  themselves  this  sum- 
mer. Blanch  told  him  she  thought  it  was  very  nice, 
and  he  must  be  sure  to  give  Mary  her  congratulations  ; 
Ida  adding,  "And  please  don't  forget  mine."  They 
never  stopped  until  they  had  crossed  the  bridge  over 
Silver  creek  and  halted  in  the  little  grove  within 
a-half  mile  of  his  home  ;  then  Blanch,  as  if  loth  to 
end  their  sociable,  said,  "Well  now,  come  Walter, 
you  did  not  tell  us  seriously  ;  shall  I  go  on  and  take 
this  trip  to  Europe  ?  " 

Walter,  guiding  Abe  up  to  a  tree  at  the  side  of 
the  road  where  he  could  ru1)  his  nose  in  a  friendly 
manner  against  its  trunk,  turned  himself  in  a  reclining 
position  on  the  front  seat,  toward  the  girls,  and  said, 
"  Yes,  Blanch,  it  is  right  for  you  to  go  to  Europe  and 
have  all  the  pleasure  out  of  it  in  a  legitimate  way 
(we  know  you  will  seek  no  other)  that  is  possible, 
without  any  feeling  or  mental  reservation  that  you 
are  bound  to  deny  yourself  such  pleasures,  simply 
because  all  of  your  friends  are  not  so  favorabl}^  situated 


^ 


WAITING    FOR   CLIENTS.  373 

as  yourself.  Kindness  and  consideration  for  those  not 
as  fortunate  as  ourselves  are  always  virtues,  Christian 
duties  of  which  we  all  know  you  do  not  need  to  be 
admonished.  But  those  poor  who  are  jealous  of  the 
rich,  and  rail  at  them  simply  because  they  are  rich, 
would  make  tyrants  themselves  if  they  were  in  affluent 
circumstances.  They  are  not  themselves  always  the 
best  element  of  our  citizenship.  They  are  frequently 
secretly  ashamed  of  their  own  occupations  and  too  lazy 
to  work.  Whereas,  there  is  no  honorable  occupation  in 
this  country  to-da}-,  however  humble,  that  can  disgrace, 
any  honest  man  or  woman.  All  that  society  needs, 
all  that  true  equality  requires,  is  that  they  have  the 
same  unrestricted  chance  to  rise  from  the  bottom  to 
the  top,  provided  they  have  the  merit  to  pass  from 
the  vocation  of  rail-splitting  to  that  of  governing  a 
nation,  if  the  quality  is  there.  But  what  I  might  sug- 
gest, on  the  other  hand,  is  this.  There  is  coming  to  be  too 
much  of  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  our  many  wealthy 
Americans,  especially  the  women,  those  who  term 
themselves  society  women,  to  hob  nob  to  English  aris- 
tocracy— silly  girls  who  will  trade  their  fortunes  for  a 
barren  title,  an  old  played-out  nobleman  who  marries 
them  for  the  sake  of  having  his  debts  paid  and  being 
supported  in  his  licentious  extravagance  ;  marriages  of 
barter  entirely.  Such  American  girls  deserve  the  fate 
that  usually  follows  such  marriages ;  and,  besides,  it  is 
all  un-American,  unpatriotic.  Our  fathers  founded  a 
government  on  this  continent,  where  all  classification  of 
society  was  abolished,  all  titles  of  nobility  prohibited, 
where  merit  alone  should  be  a  man's  title  to  distinc- 
tion.    No,  I  am  an  American,  and  while  it  is  right 


k 


374  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

for  you  to  go  to  Europe  and  learn  all  you  can,  I  know, 
Blanch,  you  will  come  back  an  American  girl." 

Blanch  replied,  "  Walter,  your  views  are  so  entirely 
my  own,  that  I  need  say  nothing  but  Amen.  But,  do 
you  not  think  it  is  possible  for  even  Americans  to  be 
too  strong  sometimes  in  their  prejudices  ;  that,  perhaps, 
we  sometimes  judge  our  English  cousins  too  severely; 
that  it  would  be  even  possible  for  such  a  thing  as  a  true 
marriage  to  sometimes  occur  between  an  American 
girl  and  an  English  nobleman  ?  Not  that  I  have  any 
prospect  of  becoming  a  baroness,  or  anything  of 
that  kind,"  she  said,  smiling,  "but,  sometimes  the 
English  criticise  us  even  in  a  friendly  spirit,  that  we 
really  forget  good  maimers  in  our  insatiable  appetite 
for  wealth  and  scramble  for  power.  In  other  words,  as 
you  have  already  said,  we  should  go  to  those  places  to 
learn.  England  is  a  government  that  can  boast  that 
while  she  is  an  aristocracy,  she  never  tolerated  chattel 
slavery  as  we  did  in  our  boasted  republic.  England,  on 
the  other  hand,  claims  that  she  taught  the  world  what 
constitutional  liberty  was." 

"Yes,  and  without  a  written  constitution  at  that," 
replied  Walter.  "  In  fact,  Blanch.  I  agree  to  everything 
you  have  said.  We  should  always  endeavor  to  con- 
quer our  prejudices,  to  keep  an  open  mind  at  all  times 
for  the  truth  and  have  the  courage  to  speak  it  when  we 
S2e  it.  I  agree  further,  that  the  civilization  of  England 
has  done  more  for  mankind  than  any  other  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  world,  but  it  is  not  the  American  branch 
of  it  only  that  has  been  rapacious,  greedy  for  wealth. 
The  mother  country  has  been  a  pirate  from  her  in- 
fancy. She  always  wants  to  own  everything  newly 
discovered.     True,  she  has  grown  up  to  constitutional 


WAITING    FOR    CI.IENTS.  375 

liberty  through  centuries  of  experience  ;  indeed  she  is  a 
republic  to-day  in  almost  ever3'thing  but  name.  She 
may  cling  to  her  old  prejudices  for  a  century  longer, 
and  then  yield,  as  she  always  has  been  doing,  in  slow 
gradation  to  the  march  of  events.  But  ours  is  the  first 
great  government  that  laid  down  a  written  constitution 
on  the  broad  principle  that  we  were  willing  to  trust  the 
people  with  their  own  government.  Therefore,  with 
all  our  inconsistencies,  notwithstanding  the  brazen  lie 
we  were  living  to  the  world,  I  think,  on  the  whole,  we 
were  started  on  the  best  foundation,  and  have  been  left 
to  work  out  our  own  purification  through  the  ages  as 
England  has  done.  I  think  sometimes  that  idea  was 
never  better  expressed  than  b}^  our  worth}^  Confederate 
opponent,  A.  H.  Stephens,  when  he  asked  the  as.sembled 
delegates  of  the  Georgia  convention  (this,  remember, 
was  while  he  was  still  protesting  against  secession), 
'  Where  will  3'ou  go,  following  the  sun  in  her  circuit 
around  the  globe,  to  find  a  government  that  better  pro- 
tects the  liberties  of  her  people  than  ours  ?'  Mr.  Toombs, 
interrupting  him,  cried  out,  'England's.'  Stephens, 
continuing,  said,  '  England's  is  the  next  best,  I  admit, 
but  ours  is  better  than  theirs.  Statesmen  tried  ap- 
prentice hands  on  the  government  of  England.  Then 
ours  was  made.  Ours  sprang  from  theirs,  adopting  the 
most  of  its  good,  rejecting  the  most  of  its  bad,  and  on 
the  whole,  building  up  and  constructing  this  mighty 
republic  of  ours,  the  best  which  the  sun  of  heaven  ever 
shone  upon.'  " 

"A.  H.  Stephens,  of  Georgia,  is  a  remarkable  man," 
said  Ida.  "  What  a  great  pity  he  had  not  strength  to 
stand  by  his  convictions. "  "  Yes,  but  it  had  to  be 
otherwise, ' '  said  Walter  ;   "no  helping  it. ' ' 


376  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"  I  think  those  words  are  beautiful,"  said  Blanch. 
"  Repeat  them  again,  please,  from  where  Toombs  inter- 
rupted him." 

Walter  repeated  them  for  the  girls,  Ida  remarking, 
"  I  suppose  that  does  about  express  the  idea  we  enter- 
tain in  reference  to  England  and  ourselves.  But,  my, 
did  we  not  have  to  be  scourged  ourselves  before  we 
were  willing  to  step  up  to  that  higher  plane  to  which 
God  commanded  us  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Walter.  "We  talk  sometimes 
as  if  the  South  alone  had  been  responsible  for  slavery. 
If  we  had  not  all  been  responsible  as  a  nation,  why 
were  we  all  punished  ?" 

"Yes,  we  all  had  to  see  this  fiery  gospel  written  in 
burnished  rows  of  steel,"  said  Blanch.  "Sa3^  do  you 
know,  Walter,"  she  continued,  "  that  father  is  in  favor 
of  negro  suffrage  ?" ' 

"  I  hoped  so,"  replied  Walter,  "  and  am  glad  to  hear 
it.     In  fact,  I  knew  Will,  was." 

"Yes,  and  I  knew  you  would  be,  without  hearing 
you  speak  on  the  subject  ;  and  I  am  not  so  much  sur- 
prised at  Will,  even  ;  but,  indeed,  it  amuses  me  some- 
times how  ultra  father  has  become  in  his  views.  He 
used  to  be  such  a  conservative  man  about  such  things." 

"  It  amuses  you,  but  does  not  grieve  3'ou,  does  it?" 
said  Walter. 

"  No,  it  does  not  grieve  me,"  said  Blanch,  shaking 
her  head  and  smiling ;  ' '  that  is  what  you  want  to 
hear  rae  say,  is  it  not  ?  Give  the  poor  darkeys  a  vote. 
If  they  helped  to  put  down  the  rebellion,  let  them  have 
a  vote.     Ida  thinks  the  same." 

"So  it  appears  this  compan}-  is  remarkably  in  unison 
on  all  questions,"  said  Ida. 


WAITING   FOR   CI.IENTS.  877 

' '  Especially  on  the  one,  that  our  country  is  the  best 
one  for  man  to  live  in,"  said  Walter. 
Blanch  here  started  off  in  a  low  chant : 
"  Our  countr}',  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty, ' ' 

In  which  Ida  joined,  as  they  raised  it  to  a  higher  key, 
and  sang  it  all  through,  while  Walter  listened.  At  the 
close  Blanch  said,  cheerily,  "  Well,  now  turn  us  around 
and  let  us  be  off.  It  is  time  we  were  going  home  ;  "  to 
which  Walter  replied,  in  the  same  cheerful  voice, 
"Yes,  well,  now  I  will  have  to  go  back  with  you  to 
see  that  you  girls  get  safely  home.  You  will  be  afraid 
to  drive  after  night." 

"  Oh,  mercy  ;  we  drive  Abe  everywhere.  He  would 
not  know  how  to  do  anything  naught}',  if  he  were  to 
try.  Give  me  the  lines  and  I  will  show  you  how  Abra- 
ham and  I  can  manage  things."  Walter  turned  them 
around,  bade  them  good-night,  Blanch's  last  words 
being,  "Be  sure  to  write  to  me,  now;  let  me  know  how 
you  made  out  with  your  client,  and  I  will  try  and  come 
back  an  American  girl." 

Walter  walked  home,  under  the  shadows  of  the 
trees,  listening  to  the  chirping  of  the  katydids,  and 
the  song  of  the  tree  frogs,  but  saying  to  himself, 
"She  is  going  to  Europe  with  Dr.  Sherman."  He 
arrived  at  home,  where  he  found  his  father  sitting  in  the 
room  reading  the  paper,  by  the  open  door  of  the  new 
end  that  had  been  built  to  the  house,  the  rest  of  the 
family  sitting  out  on  the  porch,  listening  to  the  hum 
of  the  insects,  and  enjoying  the  evening  zephyrs  that 
stirred  the  leaves  of  the  old  trees  about  the  house. 
He  felt  that  a  stranger  would  have  to  admit  that  the 


378  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

scene  looked  quite  as  congenial  and  homelike  as  it  did 
at  Morton's. 

He  related  all  his  experiences  of  the  day  to  the  fam- 
ilj'  and  said  to  his  mother  the  last  thing  before  retir- 
ing, "Can  I  have  an  early  breakfast  in  the  morning, 
mother?  I  want  to  go  over  to  old  Maybourn's  before 
he  gets  away."  His  father  told  him  to  take  lyUcy  and 
drive  over  in  the  buggy.  He  said.  "  No,  father,  I  will 
start  early  in  the  morning  and  walk."'  He  felt  as 
though  he  would  appreciate  the  money  better  if  he 
walked.  By  half  past  six  the  next  morning,  he  was  at 
the  old  man's  house.  He  saw  him  across  the  road  at  the 
barn,  turning  out  the  cow  and  watering  his  horse.  As 
he  approached  him  at  the  bars  that  led  into  his  lot,  he 
addres.sed  him  with  a  polite,  "Good  morning,  Mr. 
May  bourn  ;  it  is  a  lovely  morning." 

"Good  mornin',  Mr.  Graham,"  replied  the  old  man. 
"  Yes,  nice  mornin',  I  was  jest  goin'  out  to  dress  my 
cane  up  a  little." 

"Yes,  sir,  that  is  right,  therefore  I  will  not  detain 
you  but  a  minute.  I  was  at  Sharwood  yesterday,  and 
I  learned  some  unfortunate  news  about  your  grandson, 
Pete.  Perhaps  I  should  have  explained  first  that  I 
am  an  attorney  now,  a  law3'er,  and  am — an — " 

"Yes,  I  heard  you  had  some  notion  of  going  into 
dat  business." 

"  Well,  what  I  was  going  to  say,  was  in  reference  to 
this  little  misfortune  to  your  grandson  (which  I  sup- 
pose you,  of  course,  know  all  about).  I  was  out  at  the 
jail  yesterday  to  see  him.  He  \vas  simpl}'  charged 
with  stealing  a  coat  under  circumstances  for  which  he 
should  not  even  have  been  arrested,  and  he  requested 


WAITING  FOR  CLIENTS.  379 

me  to  come  to  see  you  and  make  some  arrangements 
about  his  defense. ' ' 

Whereupon  old  Moses  May  bourn,  whom  Walter  had 
correctl}^  reported  as  a  very  worthy  old  colored  man, 
who  owned  his  home,  but  who  was  bent  considerably 
under  his  eighty  winters,  lowered  the  bar  upon  which 
he  had  been  resting,  straightened  himself  up  as  best 
he  could,  with  his  old  stove-pipe  hat  set  back  upon 
his  head  at  an  angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees,  looked 
him  full  in  the  face,  and  with  that  comical  expression, 
so  peculiar  to  his  race,  said,  "  Ah  !  he's  in  jail,  is  he? 
Very  good  place  for  him  to  be.  Very  good  place  for 
him  to  be.  Jes'  leave  him  stay  dah  ;  don't  go  to  any 
bother  'bout  him,  Mr.  Graham." 

"  Well,  but  I  take  it  of  course,  that  it  is  our  duty  to 
try  to  do  something  for  him.  He  is  presumed  innocent 
until  he  is  found  guilty,  you  know.  He  told  me  he 
had  money  here  with  you  ;  that  I  should  call  on  you 
and  get  five  dollars  from  you  ;  and  that  30U  would 
give  fifteen  more  if  I  cleared  him.  I  suppose  you 
knew  all  about  it." 

"No,  no,  Mr.  Graham,  he  got  no  five  dollars  here 
wid  me,  nor  I  wouldn't  gib  no  fifteen  cents  to  save 
him.  No,  I  did  not  know  what  become  ob  him.  He 
left  here  early  in  de  spring,  after  eatin'  off  me  all 
winter.  In  fact,  Mr.  Graham,  dat  boy  orn'ry  from  de 
cradle,  and  gib  me  more  trouble  dan  all  de  oder  chil- 
dren I  eber  riz  or  had  to  do  with.  I  got  all  my  other 
children  riz  up  'spectable  men  and  women,  but  dat  boy 
wouldn't  nebber  take  no  bidden,  never  take  no  bidden 
from  de  start.  I  declare  I  don't  know  where  he  got  it. 
No,  he  has  got  into  a  very  good  place  ;  don't  go  to  any 
trouble  'bout  him,  Mr.  Graham." 


380  WAIvTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"Well,  admitting  all  you  say  to  be  true,  Mr.  May- 
bourn,  which  I  do  not  doubt  in  the  least,  he  is  still 
entitled  to  be  tried  for  this  offence,  upon  its  own  par- 
ticular merits.  That  is  his  right,  and  he  certainly  did 
tell  me  a  very  plausible  story  about  this  coat." 

"  No  doubt  ob  dat,  Mr.  Graham.  No  doubt  he  tells 
you  a  very  likely  story ;  he's  smart  enough  for  a  man 
ob  eighty  ;  fact,  he's  smart  enough  for  Fred.  Douglas  ; 
but  dat's  not  de  pint.  You're  no  wiser  after  you  heer'd 
his  stor5'  dan  you  was  before.  You  don't  know  him  as 
well  as  I  does,  Mr.  Graham.  No,  he's  in  a  very  good 
place,  Mr.  Graham  ;  jes'  leave  him  be  dah  ;  don't  go 
to  any  trouble  'bout  him." 

At  nine  o'clock  Walter  was  back  at  home  chopping 
wood  at  the  wood-pile  with  a  not  too  sharp  ax,  with 
his  thoughts  alternating  between  Blanch  Morton's  trip 
to  Europe  and  his  experiences  with  his  first  client,  about 
neither  of  which  he  was  entirely  happy.  But  in  spite 
of  all,  there  would  occasionally  rise  before  his  vision 
the  ludicrous  figure  of  an  old  darkey,  and  if  you  had 
been  standing  close  by  him,  you  might  have  heard  him 
whispering,  as  he  smiled,  "Ah  !  he'sin  jail  ishe?  Very 
good  place  for  him  to  be ;  very  good  place  to  be  ;  jes' 
leave  him  stay  dah  ;  don't  go  to  any  trouble  'bout  him, 
Mr.  Graham." 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

PRACTICAL   \-S.  SENTIMENTAL  POLITICS. 

^'^HK  family  is  the  unit  of  society,  the  small  muni- 
-*-  cipality  is  the  unit  of  the  great  Republic.  Fami- 
lies vary  in  size  and,  they,  like  society  itself,  are  made 
up  of  separate  units.  Townships  vary  in  size  and  are 
composed  of  separate  units.  The  size  of  the  unit  by 
which  we  measure  any  quantity  is  simply  arbitrary  ; 
a  Jeaspoonful  of  water  is  a  small  unit  by  which  to 
measure  the  ocean.  But  the  importance  of  that  unit 
depends  solely  on  the  position  it  occupies.  Dip  a 
teaspoonful  of  water  from  the  ocean  and  you  cannot 
notice  that  you  have  lowered  its  depth  ;  get  the  same 
quantity  in  your  mouth  when  you  are  bathing  in 
the  surf,  and  your  inconvenience  is  great  ;  you  emit  it 
with  a  vigorous  effort.  A  single  grain  of  sand  is  a 
small  unit  by  which  to  measure  the  earth,  but  let  it 
light  in  your  eye  on  a  dusty  day  as  you  walk  down  the 
street,  and  you  at  once  feel  its  importance.  The  largest 
circle  is  but  the  innumerable  number  of  infinitesimal 
straight  lines,  but  a  piece  of  hardened  steel  no  thicker 
than  your  knife  blade  can  sever  it,  though  it  be  made 
of  iron.  Break  one  link  of  the  great  endless  chain  that 
winds  you  to  the  top  of  Washington  monument  and 
the  elevator  will  fall  to  the  ground. 

Thus  it  was  that  Adams  Township  was  one  of  the 
units  in  the  great  republic  of  the  United  States.  It 
might  have  been  composed  in  turn  of  twenty-five  hun- 


L 


382  WAI.TER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

dred  units  who  made  up  its  population,  but  all  these 
units  were  not  supposed  to  be  of  equal  importance. 
Any  person  counts  one  when  the  census  enumerator 
comes  along,  but  it  was  only  the  five  hundred  male 
units,  ichite  male  units  who  at  that  time  had  ballots  in 
their  hands,  that  could  be  relied  on  to  settle  all  ques- 
tions of  public  policy  in  Adams  township,  to  preserve 
its  good  name  at  the  polls,  and  keep  pure  the  great 
body  politic.  Indeed,  in  the  matter  which  it  seems 
necessary  now  to  relate,  the  importance  is  confined 
chief!}'  to  three  hundred  Republican  male  units  of 
Adams  township.  The  two  hundred  Democrat  units 
who  exercised  the  high  prerogative  of  voting  were 
highl}' entertained  spectators  on  this  occasion,  except  a 
few  who  were  of  sufficient  insignificance  to  escape  at- 
tention and  were  graciously  led  by  their  Republican 
friends  to  the  polls  to  enjoy  the  exquisite  pleasure  of 
counting  one. 

Of  these  three  hundred  Republican  units,  who  are 
conceded  to  have  a  divine  right  to  participate  in  their 
own  primary  election  in  Adams  township  and  settle  their 
ovv'n  disputes  in  their  own  good  way,  it  must  not  be 
supposed  that  even  they  were  all  of  equal  importance. 
Some  men  will  fill  a  larger  space  in  the  communit)^ 
than  others,  notwithstanding  they  were  all  born  with 
equal  rights.  The  son  of  a  poor  old  Irishman,  who 
thought  he  had  the  qualities  of  honesty  and  audacity 
to  commend  him,  with  nothing  but  a  common  school 
education,  without  a  trade,  without  means  of  support 
other  than  manual  labor,  and  the  title  to  a  small  house 
in  the  outskirts  of  a  country  village,  assessed  at  six 
hundred  dollars,  occupied  by  two  aged  parents,  with 
whom  he  lived,  as  dependent  as  himself  on  their  labor 


PRACTICAL  VS.  SENTIMENTAL   POLITICS  383 

for  support,  would  not,  ordinarily  speaking,  be  consid- 
ered a  great  weight  in  the  community.  But  shoot 
him  down  on  the  field  of  battle,  in  the  defence  of  a 
common  country  ;  send  him  back  to  his  home  wath  his 
right  arm  severed  above  the  elbow,  with  his  index  fin- 
ger torn  from  his  other  hand,  with  the  commission  of  a 
second  lieutenant,  though  it  be  only  in  his  pocket, 
obtained  as  all  his  neighbors  instinctively  understood, 
not  from  any  outside  influences  that  were  ever  exerted 
on  his  behalf,  but  from  merit  alone,  in  the  cause  for 
which  he  offered  himself  a  sacrifice,  and  you  at  once 
have  another  being. 

Throw  him  in  this  condition  on  the  scale  against 
'Squire  Bowers,  who  stands  in  the  same  community  for 
wealth,  social  position,  ex-member  of  the  lyCgislature 
and  astute  polititian,  and  he  will  almost  kick  the 
beam. 

lyCt  him  ask  for  the  delegates  of  his  district  to  a 
county  convention,  before  which  he  is  an  aspirant  for  a 
purely  clerical  office,  in  opposition  to  the  Hon.  Hort- 
ing  Bowers,  who  desires  them  before  the  same  conven- 
tion to  promote  his  ambitions  for  the  State  Senate,  and 
you  at  once  throw  the  little  raunicipalit}-  into  convul- 
sions; the  whole  political  fabric  will  tremble  from  cen- 
tre to  circumference. 

Such  was  the  status  of  things  in  Adams  township  in 
the  early  part  of  August,  1867,  two  months  after  Wal- 
ter Graham  and  his  companions  had  heard  the  question 
mooted  that  Pat.  McKnight  was  to  be  a  candidate  for 
Register  in  Jefferson  county.  The  proposition  was 
new,  you  will  remember,  to  most  of  the  boys  that  Sun- 
day evening,  including  Walter  ;  but,  you  will  remem- 
ber, also,  that  he  was  informed  the  suggestion  had 


t 


384  WAI^TER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

come  from  Mr.  Williamson.  The  reader  may  have  per- 
ceived by  this  time,  that  that  alone  would  naturally 
have  entitled  it  to  some  consideration  in  Walter  Gra- 
ham's mind.  Add  to  this  the  fact  that  he,  naturally, 
had  a  strong  desire  to  do  something  for  Pat.,  a  feeling 
in  which  most  of  the  old  army  boys  about  the  neigh- 
borhood naturally  shared,  and  it  will  require  no  great 
stretch  of  the  imagination  to  see  Walter  an  enthusiastic 
advocate  of  Patrick's  cause. 

Indeed,  there  is  always  a  kind  of  implied  under- 
standing, that  a  young  lawyer  is  to  plunge  into  politics 
for  a  few  years  at  first,  until  he  gathers  in  clients.  To 
be  sure,  it  was  from  the  rostrum  that  Walter  would 
have  preferred-  to  make  his  first  plunge.  That  would 
have  been  far  more  in  harmony  with  his  tastes,  not  to 
say,  ability.  In  fact,  he  had  never  devoted  much  time 
to  the  the  management  of  local  politics.  In  short,  he 
had  never  been  at  a  primary  election,  though  he  had 
managed  to  attend  all  the  general  elections  since  his 
return  from  the  arm}^,  even  while  he  was  at  college. 
But,  it  must  be  remembered,  this  is  what  they  term  an 
off-year  in  politics  ;  there  was  no  Presidential  election. 
How  was  he  to  mount  the  rostrum,  when  there  was  no 
rostrum  to  mount  ?  It  would  be  fully  twelve  months 
before  he  could  hope  to  see  his  name  on  the  advertise- 
ment of  a  large  Republican  mass  meeting,  as  one  of 
the  speakers.  He  must,  therefore,  have  something  on 
which  to  vent  the  surplus  energy  that  was  being  pent 
up  during  the  long,  monotonous  hours  in  which  he 
was  waiting  for  clients  to  crowd  around  him  with 
liberal  retainers  in  their  hands. 

What  better  was  there  at  hand  than  making  Pat. 
McKnight  Register  ?  It  was  a  field  into  which  .some  sen- 


PRACTICAL  VS.  SENTIMENTAL    POLITICS.  385 

timeiit  entered  after  all  ;  for  if  Pat.  reached  the  goal  for 
which  he  was  now  aspiring,  it  was  evident  it  would  be 
the  result  of  a  sentiment,  a  sense  of  gratitude,  a  feeling 
of  sympath}',  a  demand  for  fair  play,  a  qualit}-  gener- 
ally recognizable  b}-  the  most  of  us  between  man  and 
man,  though  we  sometimes  fail  to  discern  it  between 
self  and  man.  It  was  this  that  Mr.  Williamson  had 
foreseen  from  the  start.  It  was  this  that  caused  him  to 
suggest  it  to  Pat.  in  the  beginning.  It  was  reliance  on 
this  sentiment  that  would  make  him  say  to  the  boys, 
"  Keep  working  it  up.  The  sentiment  is  a  strong  one  ; 
if  rightly  managed,  it  may  pull  him  through.  Be  care- 
ful not  to  say  any  harsh  things  of  your  adversary.  Put 
it  chiefl}'  on  the  ground  that  it  is  only  paying  a  just 
debt." 

As  the  time  passed  on,  it  was  manifest  that  Mr.  Wil- 
liamson's judgment  had  been  reasonabl)  clear.  Walter, 
as  he  returned  from  Sharw^ood  each  Friday  evening  to 
spend  his  Saturdays  and  Sundays  at  home,  was  wonder- 
fully gratified  with  the  accumulations  of  strength  to 
Pat  's  cause.  In  the  beginning  it  was  received  b}^  many 
as  a  huge  joke,  by  others  with  a  suppressed  smile,  but  a 
considerable  number  were  heard  to  say  that,  w^hile  they 
did  not  suppose  the  thing  would  amount  to  much,  they 
must  admit  he  had  strong  claims  on  the  sympathies  of 
the  people.  'vSquire  Bowers  him.self,  whose  plans  had 
been  maturing  for  the  State  Senate  for  the  last  three 
years,  ever  since  he  letired  from  the  lower  branch  of 
the  Legislature,  it  must  be  stated,  was  not  among 
those  who  pooh-poohed  it  from  its  inception.  From 
the  day  he  first  heard  of  it  he  was  alarmed.  He  was 
far  too  shrewd  a  politician  not  to  see  that  it  presaged 
danger  to  his  cause.    '  Squire  Horting  Bowers  had  serv^ed 

17 


386  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

his  constituents  three  terms  in  the  Legislature,  it  is 
true,  without  having  his  name  connected  with  any 
great  pubHc  measure,  or  having  it  linked  in  any  galaxy 
of  brilliant  statesmen  ;  but  his  record  was  clean,  and 
his  influence  had  alwaj'S  been  sufficient  to  secure  Adams 
Township  for  an5'thing  he  had  asked  of  it.  He  was, 
in  fact,  in  many  respects,  a  very  clever,  obliging  man, 
though  his  sons  were  sometimes  a  little^ effusive.  His 
judgment  was  sufficiently  clear  to  tell  him  that  old 
Williamson  was  right.  The  sentiment  on  which  Pat. 
would  be  brought  before  the  people  was  a  strong  one. 
He  had  no  desire  to  confront  it.  He  felt  that  if  bound 
to  take  direct  issue  with  it,  it  might  be  the  severest 
struggle  of  his  life  to  overcome  it.  It  would  put  prac- 
tical politics  to  the  supreme  test.  He  could  not  afford 
to  be  beaten  ;  something  must  be  done.  He  would 
take  counsel  with  his  friends. 

Who  do  you  think  was  the  first  man  he  went  to  con- 
sult with  ?    Jacob  Graham. 

Why  ?  Because  he  thought  he  could  tell  him  better 
than  anyone  else  in  the  township  to  what  extent  Pat.'s 
claims  were  likely  to  be  pushed.  Because  he  thought 
if  such  a  storm  was  brewing,  Jacob  Graham,  of  all 
men  in  the  township,  stood  in  the  best  position  to  avert 
it,  if  he  wished.  Because  if  Jacob  Graham  did  not 
wish  to  avert  it,  he  was  anxious  to  know  it. 

Accordingly  he  went  to  him  and  said  in  substance, 
"Jacob,  you  and  I-have  always  been  friends,  from  the 
daj^  5'ou  and  your  young  wife  came  to  rent  my  farm, 
up  to  the  present  moment.  I  cannot  recall  an  unkind 
word  that  ever  passed  between  us.  I  soon  discovered 
that  you  were  a  man  of  far  more  than  ordinar}^  intelli- 
gence and  natural  force  of  character ;  that  your  wife 
was  a  lady  of  the  most  estimable  traits.     I  have  seen 


PRACTICAL  VS.  SENTIMENTAL   POLITICS.  387 

you  live  in  this  community  for  twenty-five  years  and 
rear  your  family  of  bright  intelligent  children.  I  have 
seen  you  prosper  in  a  worldly  point  of  view.  I  saw 
you  leave  my  farm  as  a  cropper  and  purchase  this 
property,  considerably  out  of  order  and  pretty  heavilj' 
in  debt,  in  pursuance  of  your  own  good  judgment, 
which  told  you  that  it  would  certainl}'  become  valu- 
able on  account  of  its  near  proximity  to  the  new  rail- 
road. I  have  seen  your  judgment  vindicated.  You 
have  improved  this  property,  beautified  it,  and  it  has 
become  valuable.  I  have  seen  the  village  grow  and 
expand  in  the  very  direction  you  predicted  it  would, 
and  already  your  land  on  the  other  side  of  the  creek  is 
becomirg  desirable  for  building  lots.  I  have  seen  you 
pay  off  the  last  dollar  of  your  mortgage,  and  if  I  am 
not  mightily  mistaken,  you  have  a  little  money  left 
you.  I  know  that  you  and  your  family  enjoj'  the  entire 
respect  of  this  community.  No  man  carries  more  weight 
in  it  than  yourself.  You  have  been  for  many  years  presi- 
dent of  our  school  board  by  reason  of  your  supreme  fit- 
ness for  the  position,  and  I  can  say  further,  truly  and 
without  flatter}',  that  I  have  been  looking  to  the  time  in 
the  near  future  when  you  would  occupy  a  seat  in  our 
Legislature.  I  know  furthermore,  of  course,  that  3'ou 
are  a  man  who  form  your  own  judgments  and  reach 
your  own  conclusions,  and  I  shall  blame  you  in  no  way 
for  any  conclusion  you  may  reach  or  any  position  you 
may  take  in  this  matter  of  Pat.  McKnight's  candidacy. 
In  fact,  I  see  many  strong  reasons  that  would  drift 
your  sympathies  in  that  direction,  but  can't  you  give 
me  some  idea  as  to  who  is  pushing  his  case  ;  how 
strongly  it  is  likely  to  be  pushed  ;  whether  there  could 
not  be  some  satisfactory  arrangement  made  between 


I 


388  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

his  friends  and  mine  ;  and,  if  it  should  come  to  a  final 
test,  on  which  side  I  might  expect  to  find  you  ?  For  I 
assure  you  I  consider  your  position  in  this  matter  of 
more  importance  to  me  now  than  that  of  any  other 
man  in  the  township." 

Jacob  Graham  heard  the  'vSquire  through,  thought 
to  himself  "  there  is  no  discounting  the  fact  that  you 
are  a  mighty  nice  talker,"  reflected  for  a  moment, 
cleared  his  throat,  and  replied  substantially  as  fol- 
lows ;  "  'Squire,  I  thank  you  for  your  compliments,  and 
do  not  question  in  the  least  their  sincerity,  though  you 
doubtless  have  a  motive  in  bestowing  them  upon  me 
now.  We  all  act  from  motives.  The  object  of  your 
ambition  on  this  occasion  is  perfectly  worthy ;  I 
believe  I  have  always  been  willing  to  do  what  I  could 
in  advancing  your  political  asj)irations.  You  are  cer- 
tainly right  in  saying  that  in  all  our  acquaintance  and 
business  relations  there  has  never  been  an  unkind 
word  passed  between  us,  and  I  will  take  this  occasion 
to  thank  you  for  all  the  kindnesses  you  have  shown 
me.  I  am  especialh^  gratified  to  have  you  intimate 
that  it  shall  not  affect  our  friendl}-  relations,  whatever 
may  be  the  outcome  of  this  issue.  And  now,  in  reference 
to  the  matter  itself,  I  will  say  this,  that  I  have  already 
given  it  some  thought,  and  in  view  of  those  friendly 
relations  which  exist  between  us.  in  view  of  my  natual 
desire  to  do  all  that  I  can  consistently  for  you,  I  would 
suggest  that  there  be  no  contest ;  that  our  four  dele- 
gates be  mutually  agreed  upon,  that  they  shall  be  as 
much  Pat.'s  as  yours,  and  as  much  yours  as  Pat's  ;  or, 
in  other  words,  that  he  shall  name  two  and  you  shall 
name  two,  that  the}'  go  into  the  convention  with  the 
understanding  that  they  are  to  work  for  both  of  you, 


PRACTICAL  VS.  SENTIMENTAI.   POLITICS.  389 

or  for  the  one  of  you  who  has  the  best  prospects  of 
being  nominated,  either  united  or  divided,  as  the}'  see 
fit.  Farther  than  that  I  have  nothing  to  suggest,  for  as 
3'ou  have  asked  me  frankl}'  where  I  would  be  in  the 
event  of  a  final  contest,  I  must  answer  you  with  equal 
frankness,  that  if  an  open  contest  is  made  in  this  town- 
ship for  the  delegates  in  this  issue  I  am  compelled  to 
sa}',  that  in  view  of  all  the  associations  that  surround 
me,  in  view  of  all  that  my  own  son  has  suffered,  in 
view  of  the  sleepless  nights  that  I  have  spent  conjec- 
turing whether  he  was  lying  dead  upon  the  battle- 
field, starving  in  a  Southern  prison,  dj-ing  in  a  hospital, 
or  shivering  with  cold  for  want  of  shelter  ;  in  view^  of 
the  anxious  hours  I  have  spent  wondering  whether  his 
mother  would  yet  go  first  in  the  unnatural  drain  she 
was  making  upon  her  strength  to  nurse  him  back  to 
life,  in  view  of  that  feeling  that  was  shared  by  you 
and  me  and  every  patriot  during  the  dark  days  of  the 
war,  in  which  we  were  hourly  praying  that  our  flag 
might  be  upheld,  and  that  God  might  strengthen  our 
own  brave  soldiers  that  the}-  might  be  victorious  in  the 
end,  that  we  might  yet  all  enjoy  the  common  bless- 
ings of  a  common  country,  free,  united  prosperous  ; 
in  view  of  how  we  all  said  in  town  meeting  and  every- 
where, '  Boys,  if  you  wull  only  go  in  and  save  this 
countr}'  now  we  will  see  to  it  that  the  country  shall 
not  be  ungrateful,'  and  above  all,  in  view  of  ni}'  own 
sense  of  duty  in  the  premises,  I  must  say,  'Squire,  that 
if  Pat.  McKnight  stands  up  before  me  with  his  one 
arm  and  three  fingers  and  asks  me  to  give  him  this 
chance  to  earn  bread  your  claims  will  have  to  give 
way." 


390  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

The  'Squire  coughed  and  said,  "Could  no  other 
arrangement  be  reached  ?  You  know  divided  delega- 
tions amount  to  nothing  in  conventions.  Could  not 
Pat.  be  induced  to  wait,  if  we  all  do  what  we  can  for 
him  in  the  future." 

"  If  his  friends  think  he  has  a  chancfe  to  win  now  it 
does  not  lie  in  my  mouth  to  discourage  him." 

"  Is  not  this  course  onl}^  calculated  to  defeat  both  of 
us  ?  And  then  suppose  it  does  come  to  a  final  issue 
here  in  the  township,  and  you  get  beaten,  have  not 
you  left  both  him  and  yourselves  in  a  worse  position?  " 

' '  I  shall  cheerfully  accept  all  consequences  so  far  as 
concerns  myself, ' '  replied  Jacob. 

The  'Squire  coughed  again,  got  in  his  carriage  and 
drove  away.  That  night  his  wife  said  to  him,  "What 
is  the  matter,  Horting  ;  can't  you  get  to  sleep  ?  " 

"  No,  Jake  Graham  has  made  me  sick." 

"  How?  " 

He  explained  how,  and  concluded,  "  But  don't  let  it 
show  on  the  surface.     We  must  keep  up  a  bold  front." 

"  Horting,  had  you  not  better  accept  his  proposition, 
or  just  abandon  it  for  the  present?  "  said  his  wife. 

"I  don't  know;  I  must  have  time  to  consider;  I 
must  see  Slybarr  in  the  morning." 

Who  was  Slybarr?  Joshua  Slybarr,  commonly 
called  Josh  ;  was  a  citizen  of  Adams  township.  He 
lived  at  Martin's  cross  roads,  in  the  brick  house  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  road  from  the  store.  He 
owned  the  store  and  the  house  he  lived  in.  His  lot 
ran  back  to  Mr.  Williamson's  land,  with  whom  he  had 
always  lived  on  friendly  relations  as  neighbor,  but  to 
whom  he  never  confided  his  innermost  political  plans. 
He  never  kept  the  store  himself,  but  always  rented  it 


I 


I 


PRACTICAL  VS.  SENTIMENTAL   POLITICS.  391 

out.  He  was  not  what  would  have  been  considered 
wealth}-,  even  for  that  rural  district,  though  he  was, 
generally  speaking,  a  man  of  leisure.  He  could  pose 
on  a  tavern  porch  on  a  summer  afternoon,  in  a  high- 
backed  chair,  with  his  feet  against  the  post,  making  the 
curls  of  smoke  ascend  from  his  cigar  w'ith  as  much 
grace  as  the  next  man.  But  he  seldom  ever  imbibed. 
He  had  resolution  enough  to  say  no,  when  no  was 
necessary.  No  man  had  ever  seen  him  the  worse 
for  stimulants.  In  fact,  men  who  have  great  concerns 
on  their  shoulders  generally  like  to  keep  their  heads 
clear.  Though,  as  already  said,  he  was  not  considered 
rich,  he  alwaj's  paid  for  all  he  bought,  and  therefore  it 
was  none  of  the  people's  business  how  he  lived. 
Some  reports  said  that  occasionally  he  did  engage  in 
business,  that  he  dealt  sometimes  in  margins  and  had 
always  (or  nearly  always)  been  successful,  hence  his 
plethoric  purse. 

In  physique  he  was  the  ideal  man.  He  was  exactly 
seventy-two  and  a-half  inches  high,  broad-shouldered 
and  well-proportioned.  He  raised  the  beam  at  two 
hundred  and  seven  and  no  surplus  flesh  about  him 
at  that.  He  was  one  of  three  men  within  a  radius  of 
five  miles  from  Shocktown  who,  report  said,  had  lifted 
a  seven  hundred  and  fifty  pound  anvil  which  lay  at 
the  back  of  Hoover's  smith  shop  over  the  third  rail  of 
the  fence.  And  he  had  been  known,  on  one  occasion 
at  least,  to  settle  what  threatened  to  be  a  rather  serious 
difficulty  at  a  campmeeting  in  a  very  summary  wa}', 
which  made  people  of  pugilistic  tendencies  in  the 
neighborhood  a  little  afraid  of  him.  Being  still  in  the 
prime  of  life,  that  is  to  say  on  the  sunny  side  of  forty- 
five,  he  maj^  well  be  supposed  to  be  on  this  occasion  in 


392  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

the  full  possession  of  all  his  original  powers,  both 
physical  and  mental.  Chief  among  his  mental  facul- 
ties was  a  natural  aptitude  for  local  politics.  Of  all 
those  who  had  managed  the  politics  of  Adams  town- 
ship he,  from  a  purely  practical  standpoint,  was  the 
great  Mogul  of  them  all.  He  had  served  an  unexpired 
term  as  justice  of  the  peace  himself,  and  one  full  term 
in  the  school  board,  but  as  a  rule  he  had  not  been 
importunate  for  office  for  himself;  in  fact,  an  impression 
existed  to  some  extent  that  he  entertained  the  opinion 
that  he  could  do  better  for  himself,  as  well  as  for  his 
friends,  b}-  not  being  a  candidate  too  frequently.  In 
other  words,  that  it  paid  better  to  be  an  office  broker 
than  an  office  holder.  Many  were  the  men  indeed,  whom 
he  held,  not  only  in  his  own,  but  in  adjoining  townships, 
to  be  his  special  beneficiaries.  His  particular  specialty 
was  that  of  being  delegate  to  the  county  conventions. 
To  have  his  township  at  his  disposal  in  tho.se  conven- 
tions was  his  highest  ambition,  hence  his  ability  to 
place  people  beyond  her  borders  under  obligations  to 
him.  Therefore  he  would  frequently  .seem  to  be  en- 
tirely indifferent  between  neighbors  in  their  contests 
for  offices  at  home  so  long  as  the  tacit  understanding 
remained  that  he  might  represent  the  sovereignty  of 
his  township  at  Sharwood.  He  even  permitted  his 
neighbor,  Mr.  Williamson,  on  one  occasion,  to  be 
elected  school  director,  in  response  to  a  demand  of  the 
people  over  at  Shocktown  for  a  new  graded  school  of 
which  Williamson  had  been  a  strong  advocate.  In- 
deed, he  would  sometimes  say,  "Old  Williamson  is  a 
prett}'  smart  old  fellow,  but  a  little  too  full  of  senti- 
ment, and  not  a  practical  politician." 

He   had  been   in  the  armv  a   few   weeks   in   some 


PRACTICAL  VS.  SENTIMENTAL   POLITICS.  393 

emergency  regiment,  but  there  was  no  fraternity  of 
soldierly  feeling  that  would  embarass  him  in  his  course 
in  the  matter  of  Pat.  McKnight's  candidacy.  He  was 
a />r«f//m/ politician  and  had  methods  of  his  own  which 
he  did  not  impart  to  everj^body.  It  went  without  say- 
ing that  if  'Squire  Bowers  was  elected  to  the  State  Sen- 
ate, his  nephew  would  have  a  position  at  the  state 
capital,  and  that  was  of  far  more  practical  importance 
to  him  than  any  sentiment  which  proposed  to  elect  a 
one-armed  soldier  Register  of  Wills,  who,  ordinarily 
speaking,  could  not  control  two  votes. 

This  was  who  Slybarr  was,  and  true  enough,  the 
next  day  'Squire  Bowers  had  a  close  consultation  with 
him.  The  'squire  and  Slybarr  had  always  enjoyed 
each  others  confidences  ;  the  'squire  never  caring  to 
worry  his  friend  in  detail  about  all  his  methods,  though 
it  was  tacitly  understood  that  he  knew  them  by  infer- 
ence. Suffice  it  to  say  that  he  had  great  faith  in  Sh'- 
barr's  judgment  and  ability  to  accomplish  results  in 
practical  politics,  and  it  was  that  that  he  was  after 
on  this  occasion.  So,  after  lajdng  all  that  he  knew 
before  this  practical  statesman,  he  said,  "  Now,  SI5'- 
barr,  what  ought  I  to  do  ?  How  much  trouble  can  they 
give  us  ?" 

Slybarr  smiled,  looked  up  at  the  'Squire,  and  said, 
with  assurance,  "  'Squire,  there  is  not  a  damned  thing 
in  it ;  I  have  investigated  and  got  to  the  bottom  of  it. 
There  is  nobody-  pushing  it  but  a  lot  of  those  boys  over 
at  Shocktown,  with  young  Graham  at  their  head,  and 
old  Williamson  stuffing  them  up  with  a  high-flown 
sentiment.  There  is  not  a  man  who  knows  anything 
about  politics  among  them.  Give  yourself  no  uneasi- 
ness about  it.     I  can  fix  the  iron  works  for  us  solid,  if 


\ 


394  WALTER    GRAHAM,    vSTATESMAN. 

Hookey  will  just  not  interfere,  which  I  know  he  will 
not;  in  fact,  we  had  better  make  him  one  of  your  dele- 
gates, and,  perhaps,  Joseph  Bernard  another,  or  his' 
son.  That  will  break  the  force  of  those  young  con- 
ceits in  the  village.  I  can  fix  the  machine  shops  with 
Jacobs,  and  you  know  the  two  hotel  keepers  will  have 
to  stand  by  us,  solid  as  a  rock,  and  you,  yourself,  have 
but  to  speak  to  those  simple-minded  Dutch  farmers  up 
in  the  upper  corner.  The}'  take  no  stock  in  this  old 
soldier  racket.  Then  just  leave  all  other  matters  of 
detail  to  me.  I  will  guarantee  you  will  go  to  Sharwood 
with  your  four  delegates." 

"  Yes,  I  am  glad  to  find  you  so  sanguine,"  said  the 
'Squire,  "but  I  don't  like  the  idea  of  Graham  being 
against  us,  and  other  important  men  that  you  do  not 
mention,  such  as  our  old  friend  Swave,  at  the  store, 
Elmer  Miller  and  his  boys  at  the  coach  shop,  I^ong's 
boys.  Jack  Matson  and  his  father  will  be  against  us, 
and  Hoover,  though  his  son  is  not  here  now,  and  Mr. 
Kerr.  No,  sir,  you  will  find  that  all  these  men  who 
had  boys  in  the  army,  and  many  of  them  lost  sons 
at  that,  will  all  fight  us  from  the  shoulder,  and  we  can- 
not really  say  that  Pat.  is  not  qualified  for  the  office. 
His  qualifications  are  about  as  high  as  those  of  many 
who  have  been  elected  to  such  positions." 

"That's  all  right,  'Squire,  but  if  those  boys  can  carry 
this  township  against  you  now,  then  I  will  quit  poli- 
tics. Besides,  you  mistake  yourself  when  you  think 
those  men  are  going  to  be  actively  against  us.  They 
will  only  be  passivel}^  so.  Those  bo3'S  can't  run  their 
fathers  that  way.  But  there  is  one  thing,  however, 
Squire,  you  had  better  do;  don't  let  your  own  boys 
make  impudent  remarks.     Someone  said  that  Hiram 


PRACTICAL  VS.    SENTIMKNTAt    POLITICS.  395 

said,  over  at  Shocktowii,  the  other  da}'',  he  did  not 
know  what  claims  that  young  Irishman  had  on  the 
township."  Not  that  it  amounts  to  much,  but  such 
remarks  onh*  create  a  bitter  feeling  against  us.  But 
you  depend  upon  it,  sir,  we  are  going  to  have  four 
delegates  from  this  township  for  you.  You  have  no 
terms  to  offer  or  accept." 

After  hearing  these  declarations  of  confidence  from 
Slybarr,  the  Squire  went  home  feeling  a  little  more  com- 
fortable but  not  entirely  at  ease,  "If  Slybarr  is  so 
entirely  confident,"  he  thought,  "  why  did  he  incident- 
allj'  allude  to  a  feeling,  or,  in  other  words,  a  sentiment 
that  might  be  bitter.  But  still  he  thought  to  himself 
he  is  a  man  of  wonderful  resources  and  I  will  leave  all 
detail  to  him,  if  I  finally  determine  upon  this  course. 
Meanwhile  I  must  caution  the  boys. ' ' 

That  night  when  the  'Squire  had  cautioned  the  boys, 
High,  said,  "Yes,  that  is  all  right,  but  you  don't 
actually  think,  do  j'ou,  father,  that  a  young,  ill-bred 
Irishman,  a  young  swell  of  a  lawyer  like  Walt.  Gra- 
ham and  an  old  blatherskite  like  ol*^'  Williamson  can 
beat  3'ou,  do  you  ? ' ' 

"No,  I  do  not  think  they  can  beac  me,  but  then 
young  ill-bred  Irishmen,  young  swells  of  lawyers  and 
old  blatherskites  all  have  votes.  We  must  be  careful 
how  we  talk." 

Well,  what  did  'Squire  Bowers  do  next?  He  went 
to  Sharwood  to  consult  certain  friends  there,  or  perhaps 
more  accuratel}-  speaking,  certain  powers.  In  fact,  I 
have  sometimes  imagined  there  are  people  at  every 
county  seat  of  any  importance  who  simpl}'  touch  a 
certain  wire  which  communicates  with  all  parts  of  the 
county,  and  tell  certain  persons  in  the  different  town- 


396  WALTER    CxRAHAM,    STATEvSMAlSf, 

ships  when  the  dance  is  to  commence  and  who  shall 
occupy  the  floor.  In  the  grand  ball  of  local  politics 
they  may  be  properly  designated  as  the  parties  who 
call  the  figures. 

'Squire  Bowers  had  been  waiting,  as  already  stated, 
for  three  years,  to  hear  his  name  announced.  He  had 
now  been  invited  to  take  his  position  on  the  lead,  in 
the  new  set  that  was  about  forming.  He  was  leading 
his  mistress,  Miss  State  vSenate  to  her  place  on  the 
floor,  when  with  a  little  natural  shyness  she  shrank 
back  half  frightened,  as  has  been  alread}'  described,  at 
the  sight  of  Pat.  McKnight's  one  arm  and  three  fingers. 
Hence  his  visit  to  Sharwood,  to  know  for  certain  if 
there  had  been  some  mistake  in  the  call,  or  whether 
prudence  required  that  it  should  be  countermanded. 
So  after  lajdng  all  matters  fairly  before  the  powers 
that  there  existed,  he  was  asked  in  substance  but  one 
question,  "Can  you  carry  the  delegates  of  the  town- 
ship if  it  comes  to  a  square  out  and  out  fight  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  believe  I  can." 

"Well,  then,  go  home  and  do  it  ;  accept  of  no  tem- 
porizing." 

"Yes,  but  it  will  make  a  bitter  fight,  and  probabh' 
cost  me  some  of  ms^  old  friends  tliat  I  could  always 
rely  on.  It  will  arouse  considerable  feeling.  There  is 
already  a  strong  soitimcnt  being  created  in  favor  of  the 
one-armed  soldier  as  they  term  it.  Could  we  not 
arrange  something  by  which  they  could  be  pacified, 
and  take  care  of  me  at  the  same  time  ?  ' ' 

"  We  do  not  see  anything  that  could  be  arranged  at 
present,  unless  you  are  willing  to  throw  up  the  sponge 
for  another  time.  There  is  no  use  in  talking  about 
crowding  two  men  on  us  from  the  same  township  in 


PRACTICAL   VS.    SENTIMENTAL   POLITICS.  397 

the  same  year.  Be.sides,  that  would  do  no  good  now, 
for  we  have  already  slated  another  man  for  Register. 
[No,  sir,  you  go  home  and  bring  all  3'our  delegates 
,'hole  for  yourself,  and  we  will  make  you  senator ; 
what  need  you  care  if  you  succeed.  The}^  may  have 
the  soitimcut  if  we  get  the  delegates.  Of  course,  in 
making  your  fight,  you  are  at  libert}'  to  make  what 
promises  you  please  to  them  for  the  next  term.  No, 
sir,  we  believe  in  practical  politics  You  will  excuse 
me.     Good-by,  there  are  other  parties  waiting  for  me." 

The  next  day  there  was  a  little  article  in  the  "  Shar- 
wood  Herald,'"  the  organ  of  the  powers,  saying,  "  Our 
old  friend  Hon  Horting  Bowers  was  in  town  yesterdaj' 
presumably  looking  after  his  senatorial  prospects, 
which  he  assured  his  man}-  friends  could  not  look  bet- 
ter. Some  little  dissension  was  intimated  at  one  time, 
as  existing  in  his  own  township,  on  account  of  the 
aspirations  of  a  young  candidate  for  another  office.  But 
we  are  glad  to  know  that  there  is  nothing  serious  in 
that  direction.  Indeed  it  is  hardly  likely  that  the  few 
friends  of  the  young  man  would  rush  on  in  such  a 
course  without   giving  it   a   second   sober   thought." 

Two  days  later  there  appeared  a  short  article  in  the 
"  Sharwood  Mercury,''  the  other  Republican  daily  of 
the  county,  which  ran  as  follows:  "We  cannot  but 
regret  that  our  old  friend  'Squire  Bowers,  of  Adams 
township,  has  chosen  this  inopportune  moment  to  push 
his  otherwise  strong  claims  for  the  State  Senate.  We 
doubt  very  much  if  the  road  to  the  Senate  lies  over 
maimed  and  wounded  soldiers  who  saved  cur  U'nion, 
and  for  whom  a  grateful  people  stand  pledged  to  pro- 
vide. We  fear  the  Squire  is  misreading  public  senti- 
ment, or  else  has  lent  his  ear  to  bad  advisers,     Though 


398  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

perhaps  the  second  sober  thought  may  come  in  time  to 
change  him  in  his  course." 

What  did  'Squire  Bowers  do  next  ?  He  went  over  to 
Shocktown  the  next  Friday  evening  and  intercepted 
Walter  as  he  arrived  from  Sharwood.  He  drew  him 
and  Tom  Swave  aside  and  said  to  them  in  substance, 
■'You  are  both  young  men  of  influence  in  this  neigh- 
borhood, you  both  have  futures  before  you  ;  I  would 
not  wish  to  see  you  blast  them  ;  Thomas  here  can,  no 
doubt,  have  any  position  almost  that  he  may  desire  in 
the  township  in  another  year,  and  you  Walter  can  re- 
ceive the  hearty  support  and  influence  of  all  the  com- 
munity around  in  your  practice,  to  raise  j^ou  at  once 
to  that  high  position  in  your  profession  which  we  all 
expect  to  see  you  assume,  if  you  only  act  prudently. 
To  do  that  you  must  keep  yourself  in  line  with  the 
thought  and  action  of  the  controlling  people  and  influ- 
ences of  the  neighborhood.  You  can  accomplish  a  great 
deal  more  by  being  practical  than  by  being  impractical. 
You  can,  in  short  get  something  for  Pat  in  that  way, 
while  by  forcing  things  you  will  lose  everything,  which 
of  course  means  your  own  influence.  Now  we  all 
recognize  the  natural  elements  of  strength  that  attend 
Pat.'s  course,  and  under  ordinary  circumstances  we 
would  be  only  too  glad  to  assist  him  in  his  cause.  But 
as  the  situation  now  stands,  he  had  better  wait,  and  I 
will  assure  you  young  men,  with  your  honorable  re- 
cords, that  no  man  honors  or  respects  the  soldiers  of 
our  country  more  or  will  do  more  for  them  than  I,  and 
what  I  wish  to  say  to  you  is  this :  if  Pat.  and  his 
friends  will  only  agree  to  postpone  their  cause  for  an- 
other term,  I  and  my  friends  shall  all  be  for  him  to  the 
utmost  of  our  ability." 


PRACTICAL   VS.    SENTIMENTAL  POLITICS.  399 

The  boys  looked  at  each  other  with  a  httle  hesi- 
tancy, and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  just  such 
propositions  as  these  have  caused  men  of  older  years 
than  they  to  hesitate.  Walter  was  rather  inclined  to 
give  Tom  an  opportunity  to  speak  first.  He  had  a 
kind  of  presentiment  that  the  'squire  considered  Tom's 
the  most  practical  mind  of  the  two,  and  he  was  willing 
to  hear  what  he  had  to  suggest  But  the  Swave  young 
man  was  silent.     Walter  then  spoke  as  follows  : 

"Your  proposition  seems  all  right,  'Squire,  in  many 
respects.  I  have  but  one  suggestion  to  make  ;  that  is 
about  the  waiting  part  of  it.  I  would  suggest  that  that 
party  wait  for  another  time,  who  is  ablest  to  do  so. 
In  that  event,  I  think  I  maj^  safely  say  that  Pat.'s 
friends  will  all  be  for  you  the  next  time." 

Tom  smiled.  The  squire  looked  a  little  like  a  man 
who  understands  when  he  has  received  a  heavy  blow 
between  the  eyes,  though  he  tried  to  conceal  his  dis- 
comfiture from  the  j^oung  men  whom  he  had  been 
endeavoring  to  impress  as  unpractical.  The  conversa- 
tion was  practically  ended.  Well,  what  did  the  squire 
do  next  ?  He  concluded  to  gird  himself  for  the  Her- 
culean task  that  lay  before  him,  to  carr}-  the  delegates 
for  himself  in  spite  of  everything. 


CHAPTER     XXII. 

THE  RESULT. 

T^ES,  'Squire  Bowers  began  to  feel  now  that  he  had 
-*-  but  one  of  two  things  to  do,  either  to  ingloriously 
quit  the  field,  or  plunge  headlong  into  the  conflict.  He 
was  not  by  nature  an  aggressive  man,  and  therefore  he 
had  been  doing  what  he  could,  largely  from  timidity  as 
well  as  polic}',  to  avoid  the  latter  course.  Pride  for- 
bade him  adopting  the  former.  It  was  too  late  for  him 
now  to  come  out  in  a  card  saying  that,  anxious  as  he 
was  to  fill  a  place  in  the  State  Senate,  he  was  not  so 
anxious  as  to  want  it  at  the  expense  of  bread  to  a  one- 
armed  soldier,  who  had  stood  between  him  and  danger 
in  the  dark  days  of  the  war.  His  judgment  at  one 
time  rather  suggested  that  course,  but  he  felt,  to  do  it 
now  would  be  interpreted  rather  as  a  confession  of 
weakness  than  an  act  of  magnanimit}-.  Something 
told  him  that  such  an  announcement  at  this  time  might 
be  received  by  the  cry,  "  Too  late  !  Too  late  !"  No,  it 
looked  to  him  as  though  his  bridges  were  burned  be- 
hind him.  To  be  magnanimous  for  magnanimity's 
sake  was  not  exactly  his  intention  at  any  time.  Unless 
he  saw  some  share  of  the  profits  coming  to  him  in  such 
a  deal  he  was  not  over  anxious  to  make  it.  To  do 
him  justice,  however,  he  felt  as  though  he  had  been 
pushed  into  his  present  position  rather  against  his 
better  judgment ;  that  he  was  in  the  hands  of  a  power 
greater   than   himself;    that    those  powers  themselves 


THE   RESULT.  401 

would  despise  him  if  he  retreated  now.  No,  he  must 
go  on,  regardless  of  consequences  ;  and  go  on  he  did. 
And  thus  it  was  that  once  more  we  find  him  in  con- 
sultation with  Sh'barr.  This  time  it  was  the  Thursday 
evening  preceding  the  primary  election,  which  was  to 
be  the  following  Saturday.  "  Now  I  believe  everything 
is  agreed  upon,"  said  Slybarr  ;  "nothing  overlooked 
that  I  can  think  of.  Your  delegates  will  be  H.  R. 
Hookey,  superintendent  of  the  iron  works  ;  Martin 
Bernard,  of  the  firm  of  Bernard  &  Son  ;  J.  H.  Jacobs, 
of  the  machine  shops,  and  Samuel  P.  Lightner,  an 
honest,  conservative,  hard-working  farmer.  Now  that 
locates  them  about  as  well  as  I  can  do  it,  and  keep  an 
eye  to  the  different  elements  of  strength  which  we 
must  have.  You  see.  Hookey  brings  us  a  good  solid 
vote  from  the  works,  and  while  Joseph  Bernard  was  a 
little  too  cautious  to  be  drawn  into  an  active  fight  him- 
self, I  told  you  I  thought  I  could  secure  his  son  Mart. 
You  will  understand  his  candidacy  means  something, 
for  the  father  will  naturally  sympathize  watli  his  son  ; 
will  throw  his  silent  influence  with  us.  It  encourages 
the  young  fellows  who  are  anxious  to  get  into  politics, 
and  will  neutralize  the  force  of  some  of  the  soldiers 
them.selves.  There,  for  instance,  is  Flora,  that  one- 
eyed  fellow,  who  is  kind  of  foreman  for  the  firm,  and 
who  lost  his  eye  in  the  army.  He  was  in  the  same 
compau}'  with  Pat.  You  see  he  will  be  afraid  to  vote 
against  us  now.  Then  Jacobs,  at  the  shops,  has  about 
a  half  dozen  fellows  around  him  that  the  other  side 
thought  they  were  sure  of,  simply  because  one  of  them 
had  been  in  the  army.  But  we  will  get  them  now, 
Democrats  and  all,  or  mj^  name  is  not  Slybarr.  Then 
you    know   what    lyightner's    candidacy    means.       It 


402  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 


1 


means  not  only  his  two  boys,  but  all  your  conservative 
German  element  up  there.  In  fact,  the  honest,  hard- 
working farmer  racket  can  be  played  quite  as  effectu- 
ally as  the  soldier  racket.  Now  all  these  men  have 
been  spoken  to,  and  you  have  been  around  in  person 
and  made  a  personal  appeal,  have  you,  to  the  people? 
And  you  will  go  once  more  in  the  morning,  under- 
stand, and  make  a  special  request  to  the.se  men  to 
stand  for  delegates." 

"  Yes,  I  will  attend  to  that  to-morrow,"  replied  the 
'vSquire,  "  and  I  assure  you,  I  have  made  a  pretty  thor- 
ough canvass  of  the  township,  and,  while  I  have  every 
reason  to  be  hopeful,  I  tell  you  I  find  a  greats  many 
people  who  have  a  strong  .sympathy  for  Pat.  He,  too, 
has  been  all  over  the  township  in  persor,  and  really, 
from  what  I  can  learn,  has  been  conducting  himself 
quite  modestly.  In  most  cases  he  has  made  a  very 
favorable  impression.  Two  days  he  was  taken  around 
by  young  Graham,  but  most  of  the  time  just  traveled 
over  the  township  on  foot.  By  the  way,  how  is  it  that 
you  do  not  intend  to  be  a  delegate  yourself.  I  thought 
that  was  agreed  upon.  I  feel  as  though  I  might  need 
you  in  the  convention." 

"  I  have  thought  that  matter  over  in  all  its  bear- 
ings," replied  Slybarr,  "  and  have  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  is  better  for  me  not  to  be  a  candidate. 
You  must  remember  the  first  essential  and  important 
thing  for  you  to  have  is  your  delegates.  Secure  that 
point,  and  then  my  getting  into  the  convention  will  be 
a  simple  matter.  Nothing  is  easier  than  to  get  your- 
self substituted,  especially  if  that  is  the  deal  before 
hand." 


THE    RESULT.  403 

"Good,"  said  the  'Squire,  slapping  him  on  the  shoul- 
der ;   "I  see  you  have  thought  of  everything." 

"  I  have  tried  to  take  everything  in,  sir,"  said  Sly- 
barr.  "  I  generally  keep  my  eyes  peeled  for  breakers 
ahead,  and  now  while  I  think  of  it,  there  is  one  other 
matter  to  which  I  wish  to  call  your  attention.  Do  not 
fail  to  have  every  man  you  can  muster  at  the  polls  in 
time  for  the  organization.  As  I  am  the  committee 
man,  I  can  have  my  watch  ten  minutes  fast  or  ten  min- 
utes slow,  as  occasion  may  require.  But  without 
going  into  any  further  detail,  you  be  sure  to  have  every 
available  man  there  by  half  past  two  o'clock.  It  is 
highly,  important  that  we  should  have  the  organiza- 
tion. You  must  remember  that  this  is  no  ordinary 
contest  that  we  have  on  hand,  and  I  do  not  propose 
that  we  shall  be  licked  in  it.  All  that  is  necessary  for 
you  to  know  is,  as  soon  as  I  call  the  meeting  to  order, 
Hornbrook  will  be  nominated  for  judge,  the  motion 
will  be  seconded  and  put  through  before  the  boys 
know  what  struck  them.  In  the  same  way  we  will  put 
Black  and  Slade  through  for  inspectors,  or  if  they  do 
catch  their  breath  in  time  to  give  us  any  trouble  it  will 
not  be  before  we  get  down  to  the  last  inspector,  which 
will  be  Slade,  and,  as  you  know,  under  the  rules  of  the 
party  each  inspector  has  the  privilege  of  choosing  his 
own  clerk,  we  will  have  things  well  in  hand.  But 
don't  forget,  the  main  thing  for  3-ou  to  do  is  to  simplj- 
remember  our  men,  Hornbrook,  Black  and  Slade.  If 
there  is  any  change  made  I  will  let  you  know. ' ' 

It  is  useles  to  go  into  detail  as  to  how  the  'Squire  left 
Slybarr  and  obeyed  his  instructions  minutely.  How  the 
fever  had  been  raging  in  the  township  for  the  past  few 
days,  and  how  it  continued  to  rage  for  the  tw^o  nights 


404  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

and  two  days  that  remained  between  then  and  the  open- 
ing of  the  polls.  How  old  men,  who  were  usually  very 
lethargic  in  such  matters,  were  now  rejuvenated. 
How  young  boys,  who  had  never  been  at  a  primary 
election  before,  began  to  declare  that  it  was  time  some 
3'ounger  blood  was  being  infused  into  our  local  politics. 
How  the  hardy  sons  of  toi'  at  the  iron  works  all  felt 
the  hour  had  come  when  they  must  rush  to  the  rescue 
of  their  county.  How^  scholastic  men,  like  Professor 
Baker,  and  sedate  clergymen,  like  Rev.  Hartley,  began 
to  think  perhaps  they  had  been  derelict  in  their  duty, 
heretofore,  in  not  attending  the  primaries. 

How  the  remarks  that  began  to  fall  from  the  one  and 
the  other  side  began  to  smack  a  little  more  of  personali- 
ties. How  the  'Squire's  friends  v>'ere  heard  to  say  it  was 
the  most  audacious  thing  of  which  they  had  ever  heard. 
"A  young  upstart  like  this  McKnight  presuming  to 
have  stronger  claims  on  the  township  than  'Squire 
Bowers,  our  first  and  most  enterprising  citizen,  simply 
because  he  had  been  in  the  army  for  awhile,  and  for 
which  he  was  already  receiving  a  large  pension." 
How  Pat.'s  friends  retorted  with  a  sarcasm  that  cut 
like  a  knife,  "  Yes,  he  is  a  wonderfully  public  spirited 
man.  He  gave  the  Ladies'  Aid  Society  on  one  occasion 
ten  dollars,  while  poor  old  John  McKnight  gave  them 
two  and  his  son  to  the  country  besides,"  and  by  such 
questions  as  "  Where  were  the  'Squire's  two  boys  dur- 
ing the  war?  "  How  old  Mr.  Williamson  would  smile 
and  sa}-,  "Don't  get  excited,  boys;  they  are  digging 
pits  for  tliemselves,  not  for  you.  Some  of  them  have 
placards  on  their  backs  already  that  they  wish  they 
were  rid  of"  How  they  still  laid  great  stress  on  peo- 
ple being  practical  in  politics  as  in  everything  else, 


THE   RESUIvT.  405 

and  not  flying  off  on  a  tangent.  How  Tom  vSwave 
said,  "  Do  you  know  what  they  mean  by  practical  poli- 
tics? It  is  simply  so  give  Slybarr  one  hundred  dollars 
or  more  to  bu}'  up  those  fellows  down  at  the  iron 
works  and  all  the  other  mercenaries  he  can  over  the 
township,  and  then  as  a  last  resort,  if  necessary,  have 
an  election  board  that  will  count  their  men  in." 

This  was  a  broad-side,  imprudent  enough  to  have 
come  from  Walter  or  any  other  of  the  young  men 
rather  than  the  discreet  Tom  Swave.  But  neverthe- 
less he  was  never  sued  for  slander.  And  right  here, 
perhaps,  it  might  as  well  be  said  that  if  the  reader 
thinks  he  discovers  something  dark  being  hinted  at, 
some  mysterious  shadow  about  to  fall  over  this  dele- 
gate election  being  held  in  the  quiet  little  village  and 
in  the  midst  of  this  honest  farming  communit}-  ;  if  he 
further  feels  a  little  surprised  at  such  a  thing  in  the 
narrative  of  one  who  rather  intimated  in  his  first  chap- 
ter that  thD.se  who  protest  the  loudest  about  corrup- 
tion are  possibly  sometimes  alarmists  rather  than 
patriots,  or  that  they  mav  possibly  have  a  motive  be- 
hind their  cry  of  righteousness  not  always  disclo.sed  ; 
the}^  must  also  remember  that  the  author  pledged  him- 
self to  suppress  no  truth,  let  him  find  it  where  he 
might,  let  it  strike  whom  it  would.  And  he  will  say 
now  with  equal  candor,  that  tho.se  honest  country  folks 
who  fancy  that  all  the  sharp  practices  in  politics,  and 
manipulation  of  returns  are  confined  to  the  wards  of 
large  cities,  are  suffering  from  a  delusion.  The  author 
only  wishes  to  say  that  he  has  attended  primary  elec- 
tions in  both  places,  and  has  not  as  yet  discovered  an}' 
very  great  difference  in  the  tendencies  of  human  na- 
ture in  either  case.     True,  the  opportunities  for  com- 


406  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

raanding  large  blocks  of  commercial  votes  maybe  a 
little  more  numerous  in  the  cities  than  in  the  countrj', 
but  the  honest  people  are  also  a  little  more  on  the  alert 
for  the  return  tinker  and  lightning  calculator.  Besides 
the  strong  rivalry  of  factions  in  either  case  sometimes 
compel  men  to  make  a  virtue  of  honesty.  And  in  the 
long  run  let  us  hope  and  believe  that  there  is  an  inborn 
sense  of  honesty  in  the  majority  of  the  American  peo- 
ple, a  native  patriotism  strong  enough  to  make  stuffing 
of  the  ballot  boxes  at  least  the  exception  not  the  rule  ; 
to  preserve  from  immolation  the  great  S5\stem  of  free 
government  which  God  Almighty  has  been  pleased  to 
foster  upon  this  continent. 

But  now  for  the  election.  And  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, as  already  stated,  that  Slybarr  generally  at- 
tended to  certain  matters  of  detail  himself;  he  may 
have  had  an  object  in  choosing  the  men  already  men- 
tioned for  officers  of  this  election.  It  is  necessary  only, 
however,  to  say  that  Hornbrook,  whom  his  mind  had 
hit  upon  for  judge  was  a  little  fellow  who  sometimes 
passed  as  clerk  in  Jones"  store  and  sometimes  as  travel- 
ing salesman.  He  was  what  the  boys  called  kind  of 
sphinx-eyed  and  cross-eyed  both  ;  he  was  red-headed 
and  bow-legged,  and  generally  received  the  appellation 
about  the  village  of  "  little  Horney."  Though  not  of 
a  specialh'  religious  cast,  he  had  never  been  called  an 
idiot.  He  had  been  a  kind  of  regulation  judge  at  the 
primary  elections,  and  inspector  at  the  general  elec- 
tions for  years.  He  was  making  a  great  personal 
sacrifice  on  this  occasion  to  come  some  seventy  miles 
from  where  he  was  traveling  with  his  goods  to  be 
home  in  time  to  attend  this  primary  election.  He  was 
an  adept  in  figures  and  an  expert  penman.     In  other 


THE    RESULT.  407 

words,  he  was  a  man  whom  Slybarr  was  perfectly  will- 
ing to  trust  at  a  ballot  box  in  an  emergency,  and 
Hornbrook  himself  doubted  if  there  were  any  other 
citizen  in  Adams  township  as  well  qualified  as  he  to 
preside  at  an  election  board,  hence  his  great  effort  to 
get  home. 

But,  let  us  see  what  happened  that  da3^  Three  o'clock 
p.  M.,  was  the  hour  for  opening  the  polls.  At  exactl}' 
that  hour  by  Slybarr' s  watch,  which  was  ten  minutes 
fast,  he  looked  over  the  crowd  and  was  not  as  well 
pleased  with  the  look  of  it  as  he  had  hoped  to  be, though 
his  countenance  betrayed  no  emotion.  There  were  more 
of  the  villagers  around  whom  he  knew  to  be  in  sympa- 
thy with  Pat.  than  pleased  him,  and  besides  Hooky- 
had  not  arrived  yet,  nor  more  than  about  half  the  men 
from  the  works  ;  but  he  still  felt  safe.  Turning  to  Mr. 
Miller,  as  he  returned  his  watch  to  his  pocket,  he  said, 
in  a  very  indifferent  way,  "  The  time  is  about  up  alto- 
gether, I  believe  ;  as  there 'seems  to  be  a  considerable 
crowd  here  I  reckon  we  might  organize  any  time." 

"  You  are  a  little  tast,"  replied  Mr.  Miller. 

"Well,  w^e  will  give  them  a  few  minutes'  grace," 
replied  Slybarr,  with  great  condescension;  but,  a  glance 
at  some  newcomers  did  not  tend  entirely  to  increase  his 
confidence  ;  there  seemed  to  be  about  as  many  Mc- 
Knight  men  as  Bowers  men  among  the  new  arrivals. 
He  was  not  a  man  to  throw  away  opportunities.  He 
felt  sure  of  his  ground  now.  He  did  not  propose  to 
let  it  slip  from  under  him  by  waiting  another  five  min- 
utes So  accordingly  at  two  minutes  after  three  by  his 
watch,  and  exactly  eight  minutes  before  three  by  the 
right  time,  he  mounted  the  bench  in  the  porch,  in 
front   of    the   election-room,  and   drawing   his   watch 


408  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

from  his  pocket,  looking  at  it,  said,  "As  the  time  for 
organizing  this  election  ha^  arrived,  indeed  two  min- 
utes over,  it  now  becomes  ni\-  duty  as  committeeman, 
under  the  rules  of  the  party  to  call  this  gathering  to 
order. ' ' 

"Oh,  you  are  a  little  sharp  on  the  trigger,"  said  a 
voice  in  the  rear  of  the  audience.  "  It  wants  ten  min- 
utes of  three  by  the  right  time." 

vSlybarr  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  the 
remark,  even  assuming  not  to  hear  it,  but  proceeded  : 
"The  first  thing  in  order  is  the  nomination  of  .some 
person  for  judge,"  then  turning  his  face  to  the  left, 
a  voice  exclaimed  instantly,  "I  nominate  John  Horn- 
brook."  "Are  there  any  other  nominations?"  asked 
Slybarr  ;  "if  not  the  nominations  will  close."  Slybarr 
saw  something  in  the  countenances  of  the  bystanders 
that  told  him  more  forcibly  than  ever,  as  he  stood 
there,  that  he  must  be  quick  in  his  motions  if  he 
was  going  to  catch  the  boys  napping,  and  thus  it  was 
that  no  sooner  had  he  reached  the  last  words  of  his 
last  sentence  than  he  heard  the  voice  of  Jacob  Graham 
say,  "Hold  on,  don't  be  quite  .so  fast,  I  nominate 
Sanuiel  Long  for  judge." 

Slybarr  did  not  dare  disregard  that  voice,  so  without 
being  the  least  disconcerted,  he  said,  "Samuel  Long  has 
been  nominated  for  judge.  Are  there  any  more  nomi- 
nations?" He  pau.'^ed  several  .seconds.  His  hurry 
was  over  now.  vStill  a  third  candidate  ior  judge  was 
what  he  would  most  like  to  have  heard  now  of  all 
things,  but  the  source  from  which  the  nomination  of 
Sam.  Long  had  come,  and  the  absence  of  any  other 
nominees,  convinced  him  upon  the  instant  that  he  was 
not  the  only  one  who  was  organized.     The  boys  had 


I 


THE   RESULT.  409 

caught  their  breath  sooner  than  he  had  expected.  But 
he  was  still  not  disconcerted.  He  knew  he  had  some 
men  with  good  throats  on  his  side,  and  he  knew  that 
he  could  decide  a  close  vote  as  quickly  as  any  other 
man.  So,  after  a  proper  pause,  he  continued,  "If 
there  are  no  other  nominations,  the  audience  will  pro- 
ceed to  vote.  All  those  in  favor  of  John  Hornbrook 
acting  as  judge  of  this  election,  will  please  signify  it 
bj'  saying  aye." 

Aye  went  up  vociferously  from  a  chorus  of  throats, 
several  repeating  it  several  times. 

"All  those  in  favor  of  Samuel  Long  will  please  say 
aye,"  continued  Slybarr.  A  volume  of  ayes  w^ent  up 
from  what  seemed  to  be  about  an  equal  number  of 
throats.  An  impartial  chairman  might  well  have  said, 
he  was  unable  to  decide.  But  Slybarr  had  no  misgiv- 
ings. Before  the  sound  had  fairly  died  in  the  mouths 
of  the  lyong  men,  he  was  able  to  perceive  who  was 
elected,  and  just  as  quickly  he  cried  out,  "The  Horn- 
brook  men  have  it.  Hornbrook  is  elected.  The  next 
thing  in  order — ' ' 

"  Division,  division,"  cried  out  a  dozen  voices,  in 
tones  that  were  calculated  to  impress  an  ordinary  man, 
but  Slybarr,  being  an  extraordinary  man,  maintained 
his  ground  with  great  composure,  as  he  replied,  "There 
is  no  such  thing  as  a  division  at  a  primary  election. 
The  decision  of  the  committeeman  is  final." 

"Hardly  worth  while  to  bother  taking  the  vote  in 
the  first  place,"  said  Mr.  Williamson.  The  confusion 
was  becoming  more  general  all  the  time  ;  some  calling 
loudly  for  division,  others  calling,  "The  matter  has 
been  decided.  What  do  you  want  with  a  division  on 
such  a  vote  as  that  ?  " 
i8 


410  WAI.TER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Every  time  a  lull  occurred,  Slybarr  would  com- 
mence, "  The  next  business  in  order  is  the  election  of 
inspectors,"  and  every  time  his  sentences  would  be 
interrupted  b}^  loud  cries  for  "division,  division." 
Slybarr  finally  raised  his  voice  to  a  decided  pitch  and 
exclaimed  with  considerable  energy,  "You  can't  take 
a  division  amid  this  confusion.  The  chair  declares 
Hornbrook  elected." 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  put  that  motion  ?"  cried  Sam. 
Long,  as  he  pushed  his  way  up  near  Slybarr,  saying, 
"If  I  have  been  elected  judge  of  this  election,  I  am 
going  to  know  it,  and  I  am  going  to  preside  at  it." 

"I  am  not  going  to  put  the  motion  again,"  roared 
Slybarr. 

As  he  saw  Sam.  Long  standing  directly  in  front  of 
him  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  whose  well-muscled  arm  had  a 
reputation  like  his  own,  he  suddenly  remembered  that 
he  had  heard  it  said  that  Sam.  never  took  both  hands 
to  the  hammer  when  he  knocked  a  bullock  down,  one 
arm  always  being  sufficient.  He  saw  behind  hini 
Dave  Miller,  and  George  and  Jack  Matson,  all  of 
whose  faces  bore  evidence  of  a  determination  to  have 
their  rights,  and  exclaiming,  "If  you  don't  put  the 
question,  we  will  find  a  way  to  put  it." 

Walter  Graham's  mind  turned  to  a  certain  other 
historic  occasion,  when  the  Clerk  of  the  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives refused  to  put  a  motion  made  b}^  John 
Quinc}'  Adams,  and  the  cries  went  tauntingly  up, 
"Who  is  going  to  put  your  motion?"  when  the  "Old 
Man  Eloquent"  rose  up  with  commanding  voice  and 
exclaimed,  "I  will  do  it  myself."  Imitating  this 
example,  he  jumped  up  on  the  bench  alongside  of  Sly- 
barr,  and  exclaimed,  "I  will  put  the  question."     If 


THE   RESULT.  411 

Slj'barr  had  stopped  right  then  to  reflect  he  would 
probably  have  admitted  that  he  had  not  succeeded  in 
putting  his  program  through  before  the  boj^s  had  time 
to  know  what  struck  them.  It  was  perfectl}^  evident 
now  that  somebody  else  wanted  a  little  time  to  catch 
his  breath.  He  turned  around  to  Walter  with  the 
ferocity  of  a  tiger,  and  with  clinched  fist  roared  out, 
"  Who  the  hell  are  you  ?" 

Walter  turned  toward  him,  looked  him  steadily  in 
the  eye,  and  without  moving  a  muscle,  said,  "  I  am  an 
American  citizen,  and  don't  you  lay  hands  on  me." 

In  an  instant  Slybarr  did  reflect,  and  at  the  same 
instant  he  heard  the  voice  of  Jacob  Graham  say- 
ing, "Slybarr,  don't  touch  my  boy  or  it  will  be  a 
serious  affair  for  you."  Sam.  L,ong  shook  his  fist  at 
the  same  time  under  his  nose,  fairly  grinding  out 
the  words  between  his  teeth,  "Touch  him,  if  j-ou 
dare." 

But  Slybarr,  be  it  remembered,  still  was  not  scared. 
He  had  only  reflected  in  time.  He  was  not  long  gath- 
ering himself  up  and  cried  out,  "Mr.  Graham,  I  have  no 
thought  of  touching  your  son,  but  this  exceeds  any- 
thing I  have  ever  seen  in  Adams  township.  This  elec- 
tion is  being  mobbed." 

Walter  was  now  calling  order,  and  at  the  very  first 
lull  he  exclaimed,  "All  those  who  are  in  favor  of 
Hornbrook  for  judge  will  raise  their  right  hands.  That 
will  do  ;  thirteen.  All  those  for  lyOng  will  raise  their 
right  hands.  That  will  do  ;  fifteen.  I  declare  Samuel 
Long  elected  judge  of  this  election." 

"And  I  declare  this  a  usurpation  of  my  power," 
cried  Slybarr;  "John  Hornbrook  has  been  duly 
declared  judge  of  this  election,  and  he  will  proceed 


412  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

to  prepare  the  ballot  box  at  the  table.  Take  your 
position,  Hornbrook."  Meanwhile  the  confusion  and 
yelling  on  the  outskirts  of  the  audience  had  been 
intense  during  this  scene.  Two  ladies  passing  b}^  had 
run  across  the  street,  exclaiming,  "  Mercy  days  !  what 
in  the  world  is  going  on  anyhow?"  A  third  one 
screamed  "Murder,"  and  a  fourth  one  coming  out 
from  the  rear  of  the  hotel  in  her  excitement,  ran 
against  a  man,  and  when  she  got  to  her  neighbors  over 
the  way,  declared  that  she  saw  six  different  fist  fights 
as  she  was  coming  out  of  the  j-ard. 

Meanwhile  little  Hornbrook,  who  had  been  sitting 
inside  the  election-room  all  the  while  in  readiness,  now 
commenced  to  prepare  the  table  and  ballot  box  for 
operation  in  obedience  to  Slybarr's  command.  But 
just  as  he  thought  he  was  ready,  Sam.  I^ong  burst 
into  the  room,  picked  up  the  table  Hornbrook  was  lift- 
ing across  the  room,  jerked  it  out  of  his  hands,  feeling 
no  more  resistance  than  if  he  had  been  a  ten-year-old 
child,  saying,  "  Hornbrook,  by  the  eternal,  I  want  you 
to  know  that  I  am  here  ; ' '  setting  it  over  by  the  open 
window,  then  snatching  the  ballot  box  out  of  Horn- 
brook's  hands,  who  was  trying  to  escape  through  the 
door  with  it,  he  jumped  up  on  the  table  with  the  ballot 
box  in  his  hands,  and  said,  "Gentlemen,  I  want  you 
to  understand  I  have  been  elected  judge  of  this  elec- 
tion, and  I  expect  to  serve." 

This  was  the  signal  for  another  bedlam,  more  bois- 
terous than  any  that  had  preceded  it,  dozens  of  voices 
shouting,  "Down  with  Long;  put  him  out;  down 
with  the  usurper,"  and  as  many  others  crying,  "Stand 
your  ground.  Long;  don't  let  them  squelsh  you  ;  j-ou 


THE    RESULT.  413 

are  in  the  right.  We  will  stand  by  you  till  the  fire 
flies." 

Slybarr  and  Walter  both  stood  on  the  bench  by  the 
open  window  on  the  outside,  and  Sam.  on  the  table 
on  the  inside,  each  standing  his  ground,  trying  to  get 
the  attention  of  the  crowd,  Slybarr  shouting  to  Sam., 
"Aren't  you  going  to  give  that  ballot  box  to  Horn- 
brook?  "  "  No,"  thundered  Sam.,  "I'm  the  judge  of 
this  election,  and  the  quicker  you  recognize  that  fact 
the  quicker  we  will  get  to  business." 

Mr.  Williamson,  who  had  made  his  way  to  the  top 
of  a  store  box,  at  the  end  of  the  porch,  now  began  to 
rap  with  his  cane  for  attention,  and  said,  "Gentle- 
men, plea.se  try  to  restrain  yourselves  for  a  few 
minutes." 

The  crowd  finally  became  quiet.  His  gray  hair  and 
venerable  look  gradually  secured  attention.  There 
was,  in  fact,  a  general  disposition  on  the  part  of  both 
sides  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say.  Then  the  old  fanatic 
and  impractical,  standing  before  that  crowd  so  tumultu- 
ous but  a  minute  before,  said  to  them  with  the  utmost 
composure,  "Gentlemen,  it  is  evident  that  if  we  are 
going  to  accompli.sh  anything  here,  we  must  first  have 
order.  To  bring  order  out  of  chaos  was  the  first  work 
of  the  Creator.  Let  us  stop  and  consider  without  pas- 
sion what  is  the  situation  before  us.  What  have  we 
here?  The  count}^  committeeman,  by  virtue  of  his 
position,  called  this  meeting  to  order.  By  virtue  of  his 
powers  as  committeeman  and  in  accordance  with  the 
rules  of  our  part}^ — ' ' 

"Order,"  cried,  Slybarr.  "Now  let  us  pay  strict 
attention  to  what  our  old  friend  has  to  say,"  He  was 
evidently  well  pleased  with  the  sound    of  these  first 


414  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

sentences.  Mr.  Williamson  continued,  "  He  is,  in 
other  words,  ex-officio  chairman  of  this  meeting  until 
a  permanent  organization  is  effected.  He  asked  for 
the  nomination  of  candidates  forjudge.  Two  citizens, 
qualified  electors  of  the  township,  were  nominated. 
These  two  candidates  were  voted  for  viva  voce.  The 
chairman  decided  in  favor  of  Mr.  Hornbrook  ;  whether 
right  or  wrong,  I  shall  not  attempt  to  sa}'.  No  doubt, 
however,  honestly,  and  to  the  best  of  his  judgment, 
and  certainh'  in  accordance  with  his  prima  facie  right 
in  the  case." 

Slybarr's  and  the  'Squire's  faces  were  both  lit  up  with 
a  broad  smile  of  satisfaction  at  this  stage  of  his  remarks, 
while  Walter  and  Tom  Swave  were  busy  motioning  to 
Sam.  and  their  friends  to  be  quiet,  and  whispering, 
"The  old  Inan  will  come  around  all  right  yet.  We 
will  put  our  trust  in  him  still." 

Mr  Williamson,  continuing,  said,  "  vSuch  was  the 
status  of  our  proceedings  up  to  that  time  when  a  divi- 
sion was  called  for.  This  is  also  another  primary  and 
inherent  right  on  the  part  of  any  qualified  elector  of 
the  township.  This  call  for  division  .was  refused 
recognition  by  our  chairman,  though  to  all  appear- 
ances it  was  insisted  upon  by  quite  as  large  a  number 
as  had  voted  for  Hornbrook.  But  then,  our  worthy 
chairman,  acting  under  what  he  no  doubt  considered 
his  powers,  further  decided  that  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  an  appeal  from  his  rulings.  In  this  he  is 
surely  mistaken.  The  right  of  appeal  from  the  rulings 
of  the  presiding  officer  of  any  assemblage  is  an 
inherent  right  at  all  times,  any  rule  to  that  effect 
in  our  party  rules  notwithstanding  (though  I  am 
sure  there  is  none  such}.      Now  it  was  that  another 


THE    RESULT.  415 

citizen,  a  qualified  elector  of  the  district,  arose  and  put 
the  appeal  himself,  for  it  must  be  conceded  that  the 
second  vote  in  reality  was  only  an  appeal  from  the 
chairman's  rulings,  and  this  course  is  sustained  by  the 
highest  precedent,  not  only  by  an  inherent  right  vested 
in  all  bodies  to  effect  their  own  organization,  but  let 
me  repeat,  by  a  precedent  no  less  than  our  House  of 
Representatives,  where,  on  one  occasion,  the  Clerk  of 
the  House,  by  virtue  of  the  same  imagined  authority, 
refused  to  recognize  a  certain  motion  of  John  Quincy 
Adams,  when  he  arose  and  put  the  question  himself,  and 
was  sustained.  Now,  Walter  Graham,  after  the  refusal 
of  the  chairman  in  this  instance,  called  for  a  vote  by 
uplifted  hands  as  to  who  had  been  elected  judge  of  this 
election  by  actual  count,  and  he  declared  that  Mr.  lyOng 
had  a  majority  of  those  votes  So,  now,  Mr.  Chairman 
and  my  fellow-citizens,  you  see  that  Mr.  Long  can  fairly 
claim  that  he  has  been  regularly  elected  judge  ;  the 
greater  semblance  of  regularity  is  really  on  his  side. ' ' 

The  smile  had  died  out  of  Slybarr's  face  ;  somebody 
else  had  it  now. 

Mr.  Williamson,  continuing,  said,  "But,  now,  Mr. 
Chairman,  for  I  still  recognize  3'ou,  Mr.  Slybarr,  in  that 
capacity,  what  I  wish  to  suggest,  while  on  my  feet,  is 
this  :  that  in  view  of  the  conflicting  interests,  not  to 
say  passions,  which  seem  to  prevail  here  to-day,  and  in 
view  of  the  natural  desire  that  we  all  have  as  citizens 
to  organize  this  board  with  as  little  confusion  and  with 
as  much  credit  to  ourselves  as  possible,  I  propose  that 
the  two  candidates  each  be  allowed  to  name  one  of  the 
inspectors,  and  they  in  turn  each  choose  one  of  the 
clerks,  as  is  their  right  under  the  rules  of  the  party, 
and  then  recognizing  Samuel  I^ong  as  judge,  that  these 


416  WALTKR   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

men  be  recognized  and  declared  the  officers  of  this 
election.  Now,  having  made  tliis  proposition,  Mr. 
Chairman,  I  make  it  as  a  motion." 

'Squire  Bowers,  who  had  been  following  Slybarr's 
leadership  up  to  this  time,  now  spoke  up  and  said, 
"  Mr.  Chairman,  I  endorse  the  proposition  of  the  gen- 
tleman. All  that  any  party  can  desire  here  is  an  hon- 
est election.  L,et  us  stop  this  disgraceful  proceeding 
and  begin  ;  I  second  Mr.  Williamson's  motion. 

Slybarr  looked  disapprovingly,  but  finally  he  said, 
"  The  chairman  does  not  think  the  course  is  regular, 
and  is  still  of  his  original  opinion  ;  but  in  consideration 
of  the  maker  of  the  motion,  and  the  respect  I  always 
have  for  gray  hairs,  I  will  entertain  it.  Will  the  gen- 
tleman please  repeat  it  ?  " 

Mr.  Williamson  said,  "The  motion  is  that 'Squire 
Bowers  and  Patrick  McKnight  each  be  allowed  to  name 
an  inspector,  who  in  turn  shall  each  name  one  clerk, 
and  that  these  men  with  Samuel  Long  as  judge  shall 
be  declared  the  officers  of  this  election."  Slybarr  put 
the  question.  It  was  carried  by  a  decided  majority,  no 
one  deeming  it  necessary  to  call  for  a  division.  Sly- 
barr so  declared  it,  and  asked  the  gentlemen  to  pro- 
ceed to  make  their  selection,  at  which  he  stepped  down 
from  the  bench  for  the  first  time  and  proceeded  to  the 
'Squire  to  have  a  consultation  with  him.  A  little  con- 
sultation on  the  part  of  Pat.'s  friends,  and  the  names 
were  ready.  Slybarr,  resuming  his  stand  on  the  bench, 
said,  "  The  following  names  have  been  handed  to  me 
by  the  respective  parties  ;  for  inspectors,  Israel  Slade 
and  Thomas  Swave  ;  for  clerks,  John  Hornbrook  and 
Walter  Graham.     In  accordance  with  the  motion  just 


THE   RESULT.  417 

adopted,  I  now  declare  Samuel  Long  judge,  and  these 
other  gentlemen  as  the  officers  of  this  election." 

The  members  of  the  board  now  assumed  their  places 
and  were  soon  ready  to  receive  the  votes.  The  excite- 
ment largely  subsided,  and  though  no  other  boisterous 
occurrences  happened  during  the  afternoon,  the  voting 
was  spirited  and  livel}'.  Each  side  had  regularly  printed 
tickets,  Pat.'s  delegates  being  Jacob  Graham,  John 
Wagner,  Hiram  Flora  and  Jackson  Matson.  Here  his 
friends  had  not  been  quite  so  wise  as  their  opponents  ; 
though  the}'  had  true  friends,  they  had  chosen  their 
delegates  too  much  in  a  bunch  from  about  the  village 
But  it  was  evident  Slybarr  had  miscalculated  on  Mart, 
Bernard's  candidacy  controlling  Flora's  vote,  as  he  was 
one  of  the  opposite  delegates,  and  Joseph  Bernard  him- 
self seemed  really  to  be  very  indifferent. 

Carriages  were  despatched  to  all  sections  of  the  town- 
ship to  bring  in  the  laggards,  the  aged,  the  lame  and 
the  decrepit.  The  men  from  the  iron  works  were 
brought  up  in  almost  full  force  after  all,  and  Slybarr 
seemed  to  have  a  private  consultation  with  them  all,  out 
behind  the  stable,  before  they  voted. 

At  seven  o'clock  the  polls  closed,  the  vote  having 
been  the  largest  ever  polled  at  a  primary  election,  282, 
almost  the  full  Republican  vote.  An  hour  later  Sl}^- 
barr  came  out  on  the  porch  and  announced  the  result 
to  the  people,  who  were  still  talking  excitedly  around 
in  little  groups,  that  the  'Squire's  delegates  had  been 
elected  by  a  majority  of  nine.  A  few  minutes  later  it 
was  substantially  confirmed  by  the  election  officers 
themselves,  as  they  came  out,  Sam.  Long  saying  the 
majority  was  from  five  to  nine  ;  Lightner's  majority 
over  Graham  was  only  five. 


I 


418  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

The  young  men  withdrew  to  Miller's  shop  where 
they  held  a  meeting  of  condolence,  Walter  saying, 
"Well,  after  all  our  efforts,  I  suppose  we  are  beaten; 
such  is  the  fate  of  war."  Tom  Swave  said,  "  Yes,  but 
don't  you  think  with  all  our  vigilance  at  the  board, 
5'our  father  was  in  realitj'  elected,  and  possibl}-  the 
whole  ticket.  You  see  that  Slade  and  Hornbrook  are 
both  sleight-of-hand  fellows  as  well  as  ornar}'  in  every 
other  respect.  I  have  no  confidence  in  anything  they 
touch.  You  see  a  change  of  such  a  few  votes  would 
suffice  in  this  case." 

"No,  I  hardly  think  so." 

"No,  and  of  course  we  could  establish  nothing  of 
that  kind,"  said  George  Miller.  "The  thing  that  dis- 
gusts me  most  of  all  is  the  way  some  men  voted  here 
to-day,  of  whom  j'ou  might  have  expected  better. 
You  see,  in  the  first  place,  one-half  the  people  are 
afraid  to  oppose  the  'Squire  and  Slybarr,  and  then  those 
old,  dumb,  conservative  Dutchmen  up  there,  who  gen- 
erally never  come  to  the  general  election,  and  for 
whom  we  did  more  during  the  war  than  for  any  other 
class,  and  wliom  'Squire  Bowers  secretly  makes  fun  of, 
would  come  up  here  to-day  and  take  their  tickets  from 
him  as  obediently  as  children,  and  he  would  smile, 
and  joke,  too,  as  graciously  as  you  please.  Oh,  it's 
disgusting." 

"  Oh,  they  haven't  brains  enough  to  slop  the  hogs," 
said  Pat. 

"Yes,  they  have  brains  enough  to  slop  the  hogs," 
interrupted  Tom  ;  "go  look  at  their  hogs,  if  you  want 
proof  of  that." 

"Well,  they  had  better  stick  at  that,  then,  than  tr^' 
to  run  politics,"  said  Wils.  Long. 


THE   RESUI.T.  419 

' '  Yes,  not  only  they.  L,ook  at  another  class  of 
men,"  said  Dave  Miller.  "Here  is  Rev.  Mr.  Hartly, 
pretends  to  be  such  a  conscientious  man,  and  claims  to 
be  the  leading  minister  of  this  community,  do  you 
suppose  there  was  any  other  reason  for  him  voting  for 
the  'Squire,  except  his  anxiety  to  be  on  the  popular 
side,  for  fear  he  might  lose  a  little  pew  rent  &c.  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  never  did  amount  to  anything,"  said  Wal- 
ter. "  Ot  course,  he  is  our  minister  and  all  that,  but 
everybody  knows  he  is  a  man  of  no  moral  courage. 
You  know  he  was  in  favor  of  compromise  before  the 
war,  and  he  is  afraid  now  to  say  whether  he  is  in  favor 
of  negro  suffrage  or  not." 

"If  I  were  you,  Dave,  I  wouldn't  let  him  perform 
the  service  at  your  marriage,"  said  Tom  Swave. 

"Well,  sir,  if  Mary  is  willing  not  to  have  him  I 
am,"  said  Dave. 

"I  don't  think  she  will  be  hard  to  persuade,"  said 
Walter. 

"  Whom  will  you  get?  "  said  Sam.  Long. 

' '  Little  Hirsh,  our  old  chaplain, ' '  said  Dave. 

This  is  enough  of  the  conversation  between  the 
boys,  to  give  the  reader  an  idea  of  the  disgust  and 
disappointment  they  felt  over  this  defeat.  A  short 
dialogue  between  some  of  the  leading  spirits  on  the 
victorious  side  will  serve  to  portray  the  feeling  with 
them,  and  will  let  the  light  through  a  very  small 
crack,  besides  ;  the  listener  is  supposed  to  be  listening 
at  the  key-hole  of  a  closed  room  at  McGuire's  hotel, 
when  he  hears  Slybarr  say,  "Well,  we  got  there,  all 
the  same,  anyhow.  Didn't  I  tell  you,  'Squire,  that  if 
they  beat  us,  I  would  throw  up  the  sponge  ?  " 

' '  Yes,  but  they  have  given  us  the  closest  call   we 


420  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

ever  had,  and  I  am  afraid  we  may  have  made  sores 
that  will  be  a  long  time  healing.  It  ma}-  prove  a 
costly  victory." 

"Nonsense,  nonsense,"  replied  Slybarr.  "I  tell  you 
there  is  nothing  succeeds  but  success.  You  have  got 
your  victory,  and  don't  be  frightened  at  it.  Yes,  I  will 
attend  to  that  other  matter.  I  will  have  Lightner  sub- 
stitute for  me  to-night  yet.  Now  you  will  excuse  me, 
will  you  'Squire,  Hornbrook  wants  to  see  me  a  minute 
alone." 

The  'Squire  arose,  went  out,  and  Hornbrook  came 
in.  The  listener,  though  still  supposed  to  be  at  the  key- 
hole, could  not  hear  all  the  conversation,  as  they  spoke 
in  a  whisper  or  low  undertone,  but  he  could  catch  occa- 
sional sentences  here  and  there,  as  follows  : 

Slybarr — "Well,  how  was  it,  anyhow?  Did  we 
have  to  make  it  all  on  the  outside  ?  " 

Hornbrook — "Not  exactly,  but  it  was  the  tightest 
hold  I  was  ever  in.  You  see,  I  couldn't  confuse  them 
more  than  one  of  the  whole  count,  and  Slade  only  got 
one  ticket  read  wrong  ;  that  makes  two.  Then  there 
was  just  a  clean  little  bunch  of  three  that  I  got  trans- 
posed while  we  were  sorting ;  that  counts  for  six. 
And  so  you  see  that  the  result  would  have  elected  two 
of  our  men  b}'  just  one  majorit}-;  one  of  theirs  by  two, 
and  their  other  man,  Graham,  actually  had  three  of  a 
majority.  See,  you  can  only  cut  a  little  on  corners 
that  way  when  you  are  watched.  To  swap  a  ballot 
box  or  make  a  big  change,  you  must  have  the  whole 
board  with  you.  One  realh*  honest  man  at  the  board 
can  block  the  whole  game  on  you  if  he  suspects  any- 
thing." 

•'  Slybarr — "  Well  then,  it  seems  the  township  really 


THE   RESULT.  421 

Was  about  equally  divided.  I  suppose  there  is  no  dis- 
guising the  fact,  they  came  mighty  near  giving  us  a 
black  e3'e." 

Hornbrook — "  They  have  given  us  a  black  eye  as  it 
is.  I  tell  you  I  never  want  to  be  in  such  a  scrape  as 
that  again  for  less  than  a  hundred." 

The  fairy  listener  at  the  key-hole  now  withdrew, 
being  unable  to  catch  another  full  sentence,  their  voices 
having  sunk  into  such  a  low  whisper. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

ANOTHER  RESULT. 

^  I  ^HE  shades  of  night  stole  on.  The  boys  wiped  the 
-*-  perspiration  of  excitement  from  their  brows,  and 
Tom  Swave  and  Dave  Miller  walked  along  with  Wal- 
ter to  his  home,  where  Mr.  Williamson  w^as  still  sitting 
in  the  porch,  talking  to  his  father. 

After  they  had  all  been  seated,  Mr.  Williamson  be- 
gan, "Now  it  is  over,  and  we  have  held  our  own  so 
far,  all  things  considered,  quite  as  well  as  I  had  hoped 
for.  Now  I  have  something  to  tell  you  in  confidence. 
Mr.  Graham  and  I  both  have  letters  in  our  pockets 
from  both  Hon.  Lee  Baldwin  and  Evans,  the  editors 
of  the  Mercury,  at  Sharwood,  requesting  us  to  bring 
Pat.  up  to  the  convention  on  Wednesday,  no  difference 
what  the  result  was  here  to-day.  They  have  something 
to  suggest  to  us.  They  fully  believe  there  is  a  senti- 
ment strong  enough  to  cany  him  through,  without 
even  a  delegate  to  start  on.  We  do  not  know  what  it 
ma}^  amount  to,  but  we  are  going  to  tr\'  it.  Of  course, 
it  is  a  new  departure  in  political  conventions." 

Tom  Swave  remarked,  after  hearing  him  through, 
"  Mr.  Williamson,  I  am  not  without  hope  in  the  plan  ; 
in  fact,  I  discovered  a  great  many  people  this  after- 
noon, who  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  you  are  a 
prett}'  practical  man,  after  all." 

But  I  must  be  brief.  Wednesday  came.  The  dele- 
gates to  the  convention  were  all  in  by  ten  o'clock. 
Earge  numbers  of  them  had  arrived  the  night  before. 


ANOTHER   RESULT.  423 

Mr.  Williamson,  Mr.  Graham  and  Pat.  had  been  there 
since  the  morning  before. 

Monday's  Herald  contained  a  short  article,  headed, 
"The Racket  in  Adams,"  in  which  it  alluded  to  the  un- 
successful effort  of  a  ver}'  disorderl}^  element  to  organize 
the  election  board  at  Shocktown,  by  intimidating  honest 
voters,  but  that  it  had  come  out  in  the  end,  as  the 
Herald  had  predicted  some  weeks  ago,  that  energy  had 
been  wasted  on  the  part  of  the  young  braves  who  thought 
they  knew  more  about  politics  than  their  fathers.  As 
the  gallant  'Squire  had  secured  his  delegates  by  a  hand- 
some majority  in  spite  of  all  the  efforts  that  were  made 
to  deprive  him  of  them,  and  of  methods  that  would 
scarcely  bear  the  light,  he  would  be  before  the  conven- 
tion on  Wednesday  a  strong  candidate  in  good  shape. 

The  next  morning,  the  one  on  which  Pat.  and  his 
friends  arrived  on  the  field,  the  Mercury  contained  an 
article  something  longer  than  the  Herald' s  of  the  day 
before,  giving  the  true  facts  of  the  case  in  regard  to  the 
organization  and  election  at  Shocktown,  and  concluded 
by  saying,  that  they  were  creditably  informed  that  the 
one-armed  and  three-fingered  soldier  would  be  pre- 
sented to  the  convention  to-morrow  as  a  candidate  for 
the  office  of  Register  of  Wills,  notwithstanding  that, 
technically  speaking,  he  has  no  delegates.  "If  such  is 
the  case,  we  do  not  see  how  his  claims  can  be  well  set 
aside.  It  would  seem  on  general  principles  that  all  the 
delegates  ought  to  be  his." 

This  produced  a  little  suppressed  anxiety  among  the 
'Squire's  friends.  Before  evening  they  passed  the  word 
along  the  line  to  ' '  make  no  disparaging  or  disrespect- 
ful remarks  about  Pat.,  but  merely  to  treat  the  matter 
with  silent  contempt,  just  keep  the  forces  they  already 


424  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

had  for  the  'Squire  well  in  hand  until  the  balloting 
commenced.  No  person,"  they  said,  "had  ever  heard 
of  a  man  being  nominated  for  an  office  who  could  not 
command  his  own  township,  and  there  will  be  no 
danger  in  this  case,  unless  we  give  it  undue  promi- 
nence by  noticing  it." 

Meanwhile,  Pat.  had  been  introduced  to  most  of  the 
delegates,  as  the)'  gathered  in,  by  Baldwin  and  Evans, 
who  had  revealed  to  Messrs.  Williamson  and  Graham 
their  plan  for  nominating  Pat.,  which  was  about  as 
follows :  Baldwin  was  to  be  re-nominated  for  Con- 
gress ;  that  he  would  be  was  now  unanimouslj^  con- 
ceded. He  had  more  than  enough  delegates  pledged 
for  him  on  the  first  ballot,  and  by  a  little  good  manage- 
ment and  utilization  of  seTitiment  they  could  make  it 
unanimous. 

There  was  a  one-legged  soldier  named  Piper,  from 
West  Brook  township,  who  was  a  candidate  for  Clerk 
of  the  Sessions.  He  had  the  delegates  from  his  town- 
ship in  regular  order,  and  every  indication  of  success 
seemed  hovering  around  him.  Two  other  citizens,  can- 
didates for  the  same  position,  of  about  equal  strength, 
began  to  see,  as  they  expressed  it,  that  ' '  the  one- 
legged  soldier  was  in  .their  way." 

The  one  who  discovered  that  fact  first,  however,  was 
the  one  who  had  not  been  slated  by  the  powers  that 
were  to  put  the  'Squire  through.  So,  as  long  as  a 
week  ago,  he  had  sought  Piper's  friends  and  drove  a 
bargain  with  them,  that  if  he  would  step  down  and 
out  with  a  graceful  declaration  in  favor  of  the  one- 
legged  soldier  at  the  right  time,  his  friends  would 
remember  him  the  next  term.  The  reader  can  easily 
.see  that  after  that  Piper's  nomination  was  a  foregone 


ANOTHER   RESULT.  425 

conclusion.  In  fact,  he  was  not  really  necessitated  to 
make  any  such  deal,  but  out  of  abundant  caution  he 
did  it. 

And  in  order  to  make  a  long  story  short,  Evans,  the 
editor  of  the  Mercury,  who  was  consulted  about  it, 
thought  he  saw  instantly  an  opportunit}'  to  drive,  at 
the  same  time,  a  bargain  for  Pat.  So  it  came  to  pass 
that  he  sent  for  Jones,  one  of  the  rival  candidates  for 
Register,  and  after  explaining  ever3'thing  to  him,  even 
the  impossibility  of  his  being  nominated  this  time,  got 
him  to  consent  that  for  the  same  consideration  as  that 
given  to  Jones,  he  would  at  the  given  signal  have  him- 
self gracefully  withdrawn  in  favor  of  the  ' '  one-legged 
soldier." 

In  this  way  this  convention  was  to  be  stampeded  at 
the  proper  moment,  and  the  author  is  inclined  to  the 
opinion  that  it  was  not  unlike  many  other  spontaneous 
stampedings  of  conventions,  in  that  the  spontaneity 
was  arranged  several  days  previously. 

Their  plan  even  went  so  far  as  to  have  Walter  substi- 
tuted as  a  delegate  from  the  second  ward  of  Sharwood, 
at  which  place  he  was  now  at  liberty  to  claim  a  resi- 
dence if  he  wished  to  second  the  motion,  and  on  the 
morning  of  the  convention,  the  Mercury  was  to  come 
out  with  a  full  column  editorial,  which  it  did,  booming 
Pat.  and  Piper  for  their  respective  offices.  The  edi- 
torial was  all  that  Pat.'s  friends  could  have  hoped  for 
if  Mr.  Williamson  or  Walter  had  written  it  themselves. 
It  was  entitled,  "  The  duty  of  to-day's  convention."  It 
was  clear,  strong  and  incisive,  though  it  cast  no  reflec- 
tions upon  an}'  of  the  other  candidates,  it  practically 
dared  the  Republican  party  to  go  back  on  these  two 
disabled  veterans  of  the  war,  unless  they  were  able  to 


426  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

show  some  grave  moral  blemish  against  their  characters, 
nothing  of  which  had  been  done. 

The  paper  was  read  by  every  delegate,  before  the 
hour  for  the  convention  to  assemble.  Fear  had  almost 
paralyzed  ihe  'Squire  and  his  friends;  Slybarr  had  told 
the  'Squire,  when  he  first  heard  of  this  plan,  as  he  had 
on  the  other  occasion,  that  there  was  "not  a  damned 
thing  in  it,"  adding,  that  the  man  was  green  enough  to 
be  eaten  up  by  the  cows  who  looked  for  anybody  to 
be  nominated  in  a  convention  who  had  no  delegates. 
But  now  an  hour  before  its  assembling,  he  was  more 
thoroughly  disconcerted  than  he  had  ever  been  in  his 
life.  He  managed,  however,  to  say  b}'  instruction  from 
his  superiors,  that  "  We  the  delegates  from  Adams  town- 
ship, have  not  been  making  war  at  any  time  against 
Pat.  Indeed,  we  have  nothing  but  the  most  friendly 
feeling  toward  him.  We  are  only  looking  after  the 
interests  of  Bowers  for  the  Senate,  and  it  appears  we 
can't  undertake  to  carr}'  too  much  at  once." 

At  the  appointed  hour,  the  Chairman  of  the  County 
Committee  called  the  convention  to  order.  After  the 
roll  call,  the  Baldwin-Evans  faction  had  no  difficulty 
in  securing  the  organization.  The  president  was  not 
so  very  long  in  announcing  that  they  were  now  ready 
to  receive  the  nominations  for  Congress. 

Whereupon  Mr.  Boggs,  from  the  fourth  ward,  of 
Sharwood,  arose  and  said,  that  "He  arose  with  great 
pleasure,  for  the  purpose  of  nominating  the  Hon  I^ee 
Baldwin,  our  present  representative  for  that  office,  and 
as  he  had  been  charged  with  favoring  another  candidate 
at  one  time,  he  now  wished  to  avail  himself  of  this 
opportunity  of  denying  it,  by  moving  that  the  nomina- 
tion of  Mr.  Baldwin  be  made  unanimous,  in  accordance 


ANOTHER  RESULT.  427 

with  what  he  knew  was  the  sentiment  of  this  conven- 
tion, and  in  accordance  with  the  time  honored  practice 
of  the  party,  to  give  every  Congressman  at  least  his 
second  term." 

The  motion  was  received  with  cheers.  Then  Mr. 
Cord,  from  Oakwood  township,  arose,  and  said,  "Mr. 
Chairman,  I  rise  for  the  purpose  of  seconding  the 
motion  of  the  fourth  ward,  but  I  rise  for  more  than 
that.  I  rise  for  a  privileged  question  at  this  point.  I 
desire  that  the  motion  to  nominate  by  acclamation  be 
extended  to  Captain  Piper,  of  Westbrook,  for  Clerk  of 
Quarter  Sessions.  I,  too,  as  well  as  my  colleagues 
from  the  city,  am  anxious  to  be  set  right  on  the  matter 
of  other  candidates.  We  not  only  have  been  charged 
with  having  another  candidate  for  that  office.  We 
have  one  ;  we  plead  guilty  to  that  charge.  We  came 
here  instructed  by  our  constituents  to  support  Mr. 
John  Jones,  one  of  the  most  worthy  citizens  and  most 
steadfast  Republicans  in  the  county,  for  the  office  of 
Clerk  of  Quarter  Sessions.  But  arriving  at  this  con- 
vention, we  find  ourselves  confronted  by  another  can- 
didate. And  who  is  this,  sir?  He  is  a  one-legged 
soldier,  a  man  who  has  suffered  untold  miseries  for  you 
and  me,  in  upholding  the  flag  of  our  country  i;i  the 
hour  of  its  peril,  of  its  dire  necessity.  Sir,  it  behooves 
us,  my  fellow-citizens,  to  repay  the  debt  of  gratitude 
we  owe  to  such  men  when  we  have  it  in  our  power. 
Of  course,  Mr.  President,  the  delegates  from  Oakwood 
township,  however  much  they  might  desire  to  support 
Piper,  would  not  desert  the  man  for  whom  they  have 
been  instructed  without  good  cause,  such  as  I  am 
happy  to  say  exists  here  to-day,  in  the  positive 
refusal  of  Mr.  Jones  to  be  a  candidate  in  opposition  to 


428  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

this  one-legged  soldier.  I  am  instructed  by  Mr.  Jones 
to  withdraw  his  name  as  a  candidate  for  Clerk  of  Quar- 
ter Sessions.  I  am  instructed,  sir,  by  Mr.  Jones,  to 
move  that  the  nomination  of  Captain  Piper  be  made 
unanimous." 

This  speech  was  received  with  rapturous  applause 
and  cries  of,  "  Include  the  one-armed  soldier  for  Regis 
ter."  Mr.  Boggs  arose,  and  said,  "  I  will  accept  the 
gentleman's  amendment.  I  will  include  it  in  my  orig- 
inal motion."  Renewed  cries  of,  "Take  the  one- 
armed  soldier  with  you,"  "  U.se  all  alike."  Amid  the 
general  confusion  and  enthusiasm  which  now  prevailed, 
the  figure  of  a  young  delegate  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  hall  was  seen  to  rise  and  address  the  chair  in  clear, 
ringing  tones.  The  president  was  prompt  to  recognize 
the  "gentleman  from  the  second  ward  of  Sharvvood, 
Major  Graham."  Slybarr,  sitting  three  seats  in  front 
of  him.  at  the  head  of  his  delegates,  turned  to  them, 
and  said,  "  If  that  young  Graham  was  in  hell  it  would 
be  a  fine  thing  for  the  countr}-,"  Walter,  continuing, 
addressed  the  convention,  as  follows  :  "  Mr.  President, 
in  rising  to  offer  an  amendment  to  the  motion  before 
the  convention,  to  wit :  that  Patrick  McKnight,  of 
Adams  township,  be  included  in  the  motion  for  Regis- 
ter of  Wills,  I  am  but  performing  a  simple  duty  to 
him,  to  this  convention,  to  myself,  to  conscience  and 
to  God."  [Loud  applause].  "This  convention  owes 
it  to  itself,  to  the  Republican  party,  to  the  principles 
which  it  represents,  to  the  fidelity  with  which  it  has 
guarded  the  interests  of  humanity  everywhere,  to  the 
gratitude  it  bears  to  the  soldiers  of  the  republic,  who 
preserved  a  nation  and  broke  four  millions  of  fetters, 
to  the  nine  and  twenty  fields  of  carnage  through  which 


ANOTHER  RESULT.  429 

he  passed,  from  Fort  Donaldson  to  Five  Forks,  in  his 
efforts  to  save  that  nation  and  break  those  chains,  to 
nominate  him  for  Register  this  day.  [lyOud  and  con- 
tinued cheering].  We  ask,  in  the  name  of  that  per- 
fect body  and  vigorous  health  which  he  took  with  him 
to  join  those  ranks,  in  the  name  of  that  empty  sleeve, 
that  mutilated  hand  and  that  shattered  constitution 
with  which  he  returned  from  those  ranks,  that  this 
convention  nominate  him  by  acclamation  along  with 
his  disabled  comrade,  Captain  Piper,  for  an  office  this 
day."     [Loud  applause.] 

Brave  Pat.  McKnight  is  qualified,  or  we  would  not 
have  suggested  him  ;  he  is  worthy,  or  we  would  not 
support  him  ;  he  is  honest,  or  we  would  not  press  him  ; 
he  is  poor,  or  we  would  not  insist  upon  him.  [Cheers.] 
We  want  this  convention,  to-day,  while  it  nominates  a 
ticket  with  our  honored  representative,  Mr.  Baldwin, 
at  its  head,  for  Congress,  to  supplement  it  with  two 
veteran  soldiers,  a  one-legged  one  and  a  one-armed  one, 
and  hold  them  up  before  the  world  as  the  index  of  our 
principles,  as  the  objects  of  our  munificence,  and  let 
their  wooden  leg  and  empty  sleeve  speak  for  us,  like 
'Poor  Caesar's  wounds;  with  dumb  eloquence.'  Mr. 
President,  I  offer  the  amendment." 

Walter  sat  down,  amid  a  perfect  hurricane  of  shout- 
ing and  cheering,  followed  by  three  cheers  for  "the 
one-armed  soldier,  Pat.  McKnight."  As  soon  as  order 
could  be  restored,  Mr.  Boggs  arose  and  said  he  would 
accept  the  amendment.  A  dozen  voices  shouted,  "I 
second  the  motion."  The  president  rapped  vigorou.sly 
for  order,  and  then  said,  "  If  the  chair  understands  the 
motion,  as  it  now  stands,  it  is  this  :  That  Hon.  L,ee 
Baldwin,  Capt.  John  Piper  and  Patrick  McKnight  be 


430  WALTER   GRAHAM,   STATESMAN. 

unanimously  declared  the  nominees  of  this  convention, 
for  the  respective  offices  of  Congress,  Clerk  of  Quarter 
Sessions  and  Register  of  Wills. ' ' 

"  That  is  the  motion,"  exclaimed  Boggs. 

The  president,  continuing  as  rapidly  as  he  could, 
said,  "The  chair  so  understands  it,  and  it  has  been 
already  seconded.  Is  the  convention  ready  for  the 
question?  [Cries  of  question,  question].  "All  in  favor 
of  the  motion,"  said  the  president,  continuing  with 
great  promptness,  "  will  please  say,  aye."  "Aye,  aye," 
went  up  from  four  fifths  of  the  delegates,  and  all  of  the 
spectators.  The  president  continued,  before  the  echo 
had  died,  "  Contrary,  no.  It  is  agreed  to.  Those  gen- 
tlemen are  nominated  for  those  offices.  The  next  busi- 
ness before  the  convention  is  the  nomination  of  the 
Legislative  ticket." 

The  rest  you  know.  The  imagination  supplies  all. 
One  little  detail,  however,  should  be  told.  A  voice 
from  the  audience  cried  out — I  never  knew  exactly 
whose  voice  it  was,  but,  one  thing  was  certain,  it  was 
somebody  who  had  a  good  one,  for  it  was  heard  all 
over  the  hall,  as  it  rang  out:  "Hallo,  Slybarr,  who 
has  got  the  breath  knocked  out  of  them  now? " 

Perhaps  it  ought  to  be  told  how  the  boys  gathered 
together  in  groups,  and  became  a  little  hilarious  after 
the  convention.  How  Mr.  Williamson  said  to  them, 
"Don't  be  too  exultant;  be  as  modest  in  victory  as 
you  are  composed  in  defeat."  How  Tom  Swave  said, 
"  Most  excellent  advice,  Mr.  Williamson,  but  still,  you 
know,  he  that  laughs  last  laughs  best." 

How  the  old  judge  took  Walter  into  his  back  office, 
and  complimented  him  on  his  speech,  saying,  "And 
the  thing  that  pleased  me  most  of  all  about  it  was  that 


ANOTHER    RESULT.  431 

you  made  no  allusion  to  yourself."  How  'Squire 
Bowers  looked  over  the  papers  the  next  morning  and 
saw  on  the  official  ticket  as  settled,  the  name  of  Pat- 
rick McKnight  of  Adams  township  for  Register,  but 
nowhere  beheld  his  own  for  State  Senator.  How  the 
following  Saturday  evening  when  the  usual  little  cir- 
cle was  gathered  around  on  Graham's  porch,  Mr.  Wil- 
liamson said,  "Well,  T  wonder  if  our  pradical  friends 
think  by  this  time  there  is  something  in  a  seyitiment. 
Yes,  my  friends,  sentiment  is  stronger  than  any  manip- 
ulations or  practices  that  can  be  brought  against  it. 
Wendell  Phillips  hit  the  nail  squarely  on  the  head, 
when  he  said,  '  The  talk  of  the  street  is  the  law  of  the 
land.'  Sentiment  tears  written  constitutions  into 
atoms,  and  batters  down  garrisons  the  most  strongly 
fortified.  It  wrenches  verdicts  from  juries,  and  decrees 
from  judges.  It  makes  hypocrites  of  ministers,  and 
cowards  of  statesmen.  It  turns  dynasties  into  repub- 
lics, and  cuts  the  heads  off  of  kings.  It  puts  bayonets 
in  the  hands  of  soldiers,  and  Cromwells  on  the  Wool- 
sack. It  is  just  as  potent  for  evil  as  it  is  for  good. 
When  it  is  right,  it  is  right  to  use  it  for  a  generous  pur- 
pose, as  in  this  instance,  for  Pat.,  but  where  it  is 
wrong,  it  must  be  changed  to  the  right.  But  he  is  .a 
brave  man  who  dares  to  confront  it.  Sentiment,  like 
the  scythe,  has  to  go  through  several  processes  before 
it  is  manufactured  :  first,  through  the  furnace  of  con- 
viction, then  of  purpose,  and,  finally,  of  necessity,  be- 
fore it  appears  the  full-fledged  article,  which,  like  the 
scythe,  mows  down  all  before  it. 

"Yes,  my  friends,  sentiment  has  made  Pat. 
McKnight  Register.  It  has  erected  monuments  at 
Bunker  Hill,    though  our  armies  were  whipped  and 


432  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

driven  from  the  field.  Sentiment  has  erected  monu- 
ments to  Wellington  at  Waterloo,  though  he  knew 
nothing  of  how  the  battle  was  conducted,  and,  it  is 
sentiment  that  is  rapid!}-  rolling  Gen.  Grant  into  the 
Presidential  chair,  though  no  man  in  the  country  is 
authorized  to  say,  to-day,  what  his  political  opinions 
are.  Sentiment  may  compel  him  to  pronounce  in  favor 
of  Republicanism,  as  it  compelled  us  to  abolish  sla- 
very, or  as  that  necessitj-,  which  compelled  us  to  put  a 
bayonet  in  the  hands  of  the  negro,  must  yet  create  a 
sentiment  that  will  put  a  ballot  in  his  hand,  otherwise, 
the  liberty  which  has  been  granted  him  in  name,  will 
prove  a  nullity  in  fact." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

DARKNESS  AND  LIGHT. 

"  And  the  soul  while  reaching  outward 
For  the  heavenly  message  sent, 
On  its  prison  bars  is  beating, 
Breeding  hoi)-  discontent. ' ' 

AT  the  time  in  which  the  scene  of  this  chapter  is 
-  principal!}^  laid,  to  wit,  October,  1867,  it  seems 
absolutely  necessary  to  take  a  short  backward  glance  of 
two  years  and  a  half  to  understand  ftilly  its  signifi- 
cance. Simply  to  turn  for  a  brief  moment  to  a  certain 
April  day.  An  historic  April  day.  A  day  filled  with 
cheers  and  rejoicing  ;  a  da}'  filled  with  despair  and 
gloom  ;  a  day  of  expectations  realized  ;  a  day  of  hopes 
crushed  to  earth  ;  a  day  of  unbounded  joy  ;  a  day  of 
broken  hearts  ;  a  prottd  day  for  victor  ;  sombre  day  for 
vanquished  ;  a  day  on  which  both  sides  distinctly  read 
' '  the  end. ' '  For  it  was  none  other  than  the  ninth  day 
of  April,  1865.     It  was  Appomattox  day. 

But  it  is  not  of  the  two  great  chieftains  of  that  occa- 
sion of  which  we  are  to  speak.  The  one  young,  in  the 
prime  of  life,  with  his  three  and  forty  years  resting 
lightly  on  him,  clad  simply  in  a  soldier's  blouse,  with- 
out sword,  without  epaulettes,  save  only  a  small  strap 
on  his  shoulders  to  indicate  who  he  was  The  other, 
still  erect  and  commanding  under  his  three  score  years, 
dressed  in  full  uniform,  with  trailing  sword.  The  one 
conquerer,  the  other  conqtiered.  The  one  simplicity, 
the  other  dignity ;  but  both  stoics,  the  impene- 
19 


434  WAI.TER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

trable,  emotionless,  both  "  anxious  to  shift  from 
their  shoulders  the  responsibility  of  the  further  useless 
effusion  of  blood,"  nor  is  it  the  terms  of  that  surrender 
on  which  we  wish  to  dwell.  The  world  knows  them 
by  heart;  they  w^ere  not  hard  to  remember.  "Lay 
down  your  arms,  officers  retain  j-our  side  arms,  go 
home  on  your  paroles  of  honor,  obey  the  laws  of  the 
country'.  Take  your  horses  with  j^ou,  j^ou  will  need 
them  to  put  in  your  spring  crops."  Then  the  simple 
unpretentious  soldier  of  fortj^-three  went  back  to  his 
command,  and  the  dignified  soldier  of  sixt}^  went  back 
to  his  home,  and  the  world  stood  amazed. 

Of  all  this  our  school  children  know,  but  they  are 
not  so  well  acquainted  wuth  a  certain  other  young  man 
in  his  twenty-eighth  year,  wdio  was  riding  on  his 
horse — an  old  brown  horse — toward  the  rear  of  the  sur- 
rendered army,  by  virtue  of  those  terms.  It  was  not 
the  gallant  gray  with  which  he  had  ridden  away  from 
his  home  four  years  before,  but  still  he  was  addressed 
as  Colonel  by  about  a  dozen  Confederate  soldiers,  who 
were  standing  by  the  roadside  as  he  left  camp.  They 
were  the  remnants  of  his  regiment.  They  said  to  him, 
"Colonel,  are  you  leaving  us?  God  bless  you,  what 
are  we  to  do  ?  "  He  halted,  turned  in  his  saddle,  rest- 
ing one  hand  upon  the  sharp  withers  of  his  bony  steed, 
raising  the  other  up  in  the  air,  said,  "Yes,  mj^  com- 
panions in  arms,  I  am  leaving  you.  Farewell.  The 
God  of  battles  has  been  against  us.  Oh,  my  comrades, 
it  is  true,  we  have  lost,  we  have  lost.  You  ask  me 
what  are  you  to  do  ?  I  answer,  take  home  these  arms 
and  trophies  that  a  generous  conqueror  has  left  you  ; 
be  as  peaceful  citizens  in  the  conquered  South,  as  you 
have  been  brave  soldiers  in  your  efforts  to  establish  the 


DARKNESS   AND   IvIGHT.  435 

independent  South.  And  remember,  that  from  this 
day  forward  and  forever,  you  have  but  one  country, 
one  flag — the  United  States,  the  stars  and  stripes.  You 
have  my  blessing.     Farewell." 

He  turned  his  face  once  more  toward  the  South, 
spoke  to  his  horse  and  rode  slowly  away.  Scars  were 
on  his  bod}^,  sorrow  was  in  his  heart,  emptiness  was  in 
his  pockets,  courage  in  his  breast,  honor  in  his  soul, 
philosophy  in  his  mind. 

He  jogged  slowly  on  for  days,  subsisting  as  best  he 
could  upon  the  charities  of  an  impoverished  people, 
and  grazing  his  horse  at  intervals  on  the  roadside. 
His  hair  was  unkempt,  his  beard  was  shaggy,  his 
clothes  were  soiled,  his  boots  were  in  holes. 

He  reached  his  home  in  process  of  time,  where  he 
was  greeted  by  sisters,  embraced  by  mother,  and  shown 
the  last  letter  of  his  father,  who  had  died  at  Fort 
Fisher,  defending  the  lost  cause. 

The  following  day  he  was  sitting  on  the  east  porch 
of  a  statel}'  mansion.  His  hair  had  been  trimmed,  his 
face  was  clean  shaven,  he  was  clad  in  citizen's  clothes, 
his  mind  was  absorded  ii.  thought.  The  mansion  at 
which  he  was  resting  was  Mount  Airy.  His  name  was 
Andrew  Jackson  Clinton. 

He  awoke  as  from  a  trance,  turned  to  his  mother 
and  said,  "  Where  is  old  Uncle  Snow?  " 

"  Out  at  the  barn,  I  think." 

"  Could  you  have  him  come  here  ?  " 

"Yes."  ' 

An  old  negro,  whose  grinning  face,  white  teeth  and 
hair  explained  at  once  how  he  had  received  the  appel- 
lation of  "  Uncle  Snow,"  soon  stood  before  him. 

"  Uncle  Snow,"  commenced  Clinton,  "  I  wish  to  talk 


436  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

to  you  on  a  matter  of  business.  I  have  heard  the 
good  reports  of  3'ou,  the  faithfuhiess  with  which  you 
have  stood  by  my  mother  and  sisters  during  the  time 
both  father  and  I  were  away,  though  I  beheve  all  the 
time  you  sympathized  with  the  North,  and  prophesied 
that  we  would  lose.  I  wish  to  say  to  you,  first  of  all, 
that  5'our  prophecy  has  been  fulfilled.  We  have  been 
conquered,  and  you  are  a  free  man.  Your  children 
will  never  again  be  .sold  from  you.  You  need  never 
again  address  an}-  man  as  master.  What  I  want  to  say 
to  you  next  is,  that  )-ou  know  more  about  how  to  carry 
on  the  business  of  this  plantation  than  any  other  man 
on  it.  You  have  served  a  long  apprenticeship  here. 
Humiliating  as  the  fact  may  be  to  us,  you  know  more 
about  the  cultivation  of  cotton,  of  potatoes,  of  tobacco, 
of  the  manufacturing  of  tar  and  rosin,  of  the  cutting 
and  sawing  of  logs  than  I  do,  which  is  simply  nothing. 
I  was  not  raised  to  work,  but  to  be  a  gentleman. 
I  was  equipped  for  the  law,  when  I  left  here  to  rear  a 
Southern  Confederac}';  but,  as  the  situation  now 
stands,  lawyers  are  not  needed  here.  Somebody  that 
can  do  a  day's  work  is  w^hat  is  required  ;  men  that  can 
hitch  a  pair  of  horses  to  a  plow,  or  manage  a  cotton- 
gin  ;  girls  who  can  cook  themselves  a  meal,  or  wash 
their  own  dresses,  if  necessar>\  I  am  as  much  the  pro- 
prietor of  this  property  now  as  anyone  else.  I  am 
willing  to  learn  to  work,  but  I  need  some  one  to  teach 
me  ;  I  will  need  help  to  manage  this  business  ;  I  am 
supposed,  under  the  new  order  of  things,  to  pay  that 
help  for  their  services.  We  have  nothing  to  pay  them 
with.     As  for  money,  we  have  none. 

"Would   you   be  willing    Uncle   Snow,  to   remain 
here  with  us  and  a  few  other  of  the  more  reliable  hands 


DARKNESS   AND   LIGHT.  437 

that  5'ou  could  induce  to  do  the  same,  if  I  promise 
you,  if  my  mother  promises  you,  that  we  will  pay  3'ou 
for  your  services  after  the  crops  are  raised  and  sold,  or 
that  we  give  you  a  certain  share  in  them  that  shall  be 
yours,  that  you  can  do  what  you  please  with?  Are 
you  willing  to  trust  to  that,  at  least  until  we  can  have 
some  understanding  with  some  friends  of  ours  in  the 
North  who  own  a  considerable  portion  of  this  planta- 
tion ? ' ' 

Old  Uncle  Snow  bowed,  grinned,  and  said,  "All 
perfectly  sac'fac'ry,  Massa  Andrew.  Alwa3's  did  like 
you,  and  Missus,  too,  and  de  gals.  I  trus'  you  to 
anyting,  Massa  Andy  ;  jes'  one  ting  I  like  to  ax  you, 
Massa  Andy,  You  tink  dere  am  any  chance  for  me  to 
eber  see  my  daughter?  You  musn't  be  too  hard  on  me 
for  kinder  sidin'  a  little  wid  the  Norf.  I  done  de  bes' 
I  could  for  you.  I  didn't  tell  de  Linkum  sodjers 
eberyting  when  dey  comes  along.  I  hid  enough  fat 
meat  and  'taters  back  for  Missus  and  de  gals." 

"  Uncle  Snow,  if  you  will  forgive  my  father,  now  in 
his  grave,  for  having  consented  to  sell  your  daughter, 
I  will  forgive  you  and  all  your  tribe  for  sympathizing 
with  the  North,  and,  if  possible,  hunt  your  daughter 
up  for  you,  besides." 

"God  bless  you,  Massa  Andy,  God  bless  you." 

"  Did  Sherman's  army  destroy  everj^thing  as  effectu- 
ally as  on  this  place,  when  it  came  through  here." 

"  Can't  say  'zactly  as  to  dat,  Massa  Andy.  I  saved 
'nough  back  here,  though,  to  keep  us  from  starvin' 
for  a  couple  o'  days." 

An  old  gray  haired  and  gray  bearded  man  who  had 
stepped  around  the  corner,  and  been  a  listener  to 
this     dialogue,    now    interposed    his    voice,    as    fol- 


438  WAI.TER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

lows:  "Andrew,  you  are  a  glorious  young  man.  I 
have  been  edified  with  this  conversation  with  an  old 
nigger,  making  him  3'our  equal.  It's  a  wonder  you 
don't  embrace  him  and  call  him  brother  at  once.  So 
the  Southern  Confederac)^  is  lost,  is  it  ?  Slavery  is 
abolished,  is  it?  Not  much,  let  me  tell  you.  We  have 
soldiers  in  the  field  yet.  We  can  keep  up  a  guerilla 
warfare,  if  nothing  more,  for  years.  Haven't  we  just 
heard  that  the  tyrant,  I^incoln,  is  killed?  In  fact, 
Andrew,  I  see  you  are  about  as  great  a  fool  on  this 
question  as  you  ever  were." 

Andrew  Jackson  Clinton  turned  around  on  his  chair, 
looked  at  the  old  man,  and  said,  sarcastically,  "Mr. 
Morgan,  I  have  been  a  great  fool  on  this  question,  'tis 
true.  The  only  person  I  know  more  consummately  so 
is  3'ourself. "  He  paused,  turned  his  face  contemp- 
tuousl}^  as  if  to  saj^,  "  I  do  not  propose  to  waste  words 
about  it." 

Nothing  could  have  maddened  old  Morgan  more 
than  this.  He  accordingly  retorted  as  ironically  as  he 
could,  "  Yes,  well  3'ou  are  a  fool  and  a  coward  besides. 
You  are  a  pretty  soldier,  aren't  you,  coming  home 
talking  that  way." 

Clinton  turned,  sprang  to  his  feet,  raised  his  right 
hand,  stretched  out  his  finger,  passed  his  left  hand 
through  his  hair,  and  exclaimed,  "  Morgan,  who  are 
you  ?  A  sneaking,  cowardly  braggadocio,  who  wants 
to  shield  himself  behind  his  years.  I  have  scars  on 
my  body  more  than  you  ever  saw  regiments.  They 
were  put  there  by  Yankee  bullets.  The  Southern 
Confederac}'  was  lyee's  army.  It  has  been  forced 
to  surrender.  I  do  not  know  what  you  call  it ; 
I  call  it  being  whipped.     Fools  learn  only  in  the  school 


DARKNESS   AND    LIGHT.  439 

of  experience,  but  you  seem  too  obtuse  even  for  that. 
If  the  report  should  prove  true  that  Lincohi  has  been 
killed,  it  will  be  cause  for  lamentation,  not  for  rejoic- 
ing on  the  part  of  the  South.  The  next  word 
that  you  will  hear  will  be  that  Johnson  has  surren- 
dered. You  have  witnessed  the  last  effort  that  will 
ever  be  made  to  dismember  the  Federal  Union  for  the 
next  hundred  j^ears.  You  have  seen  the  last  fetter 
fastened  on  the  arms  of  a  negro,  be  careful  lest  the 
next  cord  you  feel  be  not  around  your  own  neck. 
Remember  you  belong  to  the  class  who  had  sworn  to 
support  the  Federal  constitution,  when  you  renounced 
it  to  support  the  Southern  one." 

Old  Morgan  was  as  completely  suppressed  as  he  had 
been  on  this  same  porch  four  years  before  and  infinitel}^ 
worse  scared.  His  whole  manner  changing,  he  said, 
"What  do  you  think  those  Northern  brutes  will  do 
with  us  anyhow  ? ' ' 

"  I  do  not  think  the  men  of  the  North  will  do  any- 
thing with  us,  if  such  men  as  you  will  keep  your 
mouths  shut.  Uncle  Snow  you  may  go ;  I  will  see  you 
again." 

Clinton  turned  to  open  a  letter  just  handed  to  him, 

and  the  conversation  closed.     As  he  unfolded  it  a  five 

dollar  greenback  disclosed  itself     The  letter  read  as 

follows  : 

Ann  Arbor  University,  Mich.,  April  ii,  1S65. 

Col.  A.  J.  Clinton — Dear  Sir :  I  write  this  in  the  mere  hope 
that  it  may  reach  you,  as  I  have  heard  nothing  from  you  since 
the  evening  I  left  you  on  the  march,  with  the  three  hard  tacks 
that  you  gave  me  from  your  meagre  supply. 

You,  of  course,  have  intelligence  enough  to  know  that  your 
cause  is  lost.  I  know  that  you,  with  the  rest  of  the  Southern 
people  must  be  poor.   As  a  slight  token  of  the  personal  favor  you 


440  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

did  me,  I  take  the  libert}-  of  enclosing  you  this  small  amount. 
You  may  call  it  a  loan,  if  you  prefer.  I  shall  call  it  a  gift ;  and 
be  assured  that  my  own  straitened  condition  at  this  time  is  all 
that  prevents  me  from  making  it  larger.  I  think,  further,  I  can 
say  that  the  people  of  the  North  have  no  vindictive  feelings 
toward  you.  You  will  simply  remember  what  Abraham  Lin- 
coln has  intimated  in  his  terms  :  "  The  Union  is  preserved  in  its 
integrity  ;  slavery  is  abolished  ;  the  rest  they  may  write  out 
themselves."     Hoping  that  this  may  reach  you,  I  remain. 

Yours  truly, 

Walter  Graham. 

Clinton  read  and  re-read  the  lines,  ttirned  the  five- 
dollar  bill  in  hand,  passed  it  and  the  letter  over  to  his 
mother  and  sisters,  who  were  exclaiming,  "Whom  is 
your  letter  from,  Andrew?  Will  you  let  us  see  it, 
please?"  He  drew  a  handkerchief  from  his  pocket, 
wiped  a  tear  from  his  eye,  and  remarked,  "  Mother,  we 
can  get  a  few  groceries  now,  at  least." 

And  now  we  leave  Mount  Airy  once  more  in  the 
distance,  while  we  turn  our  glances  to  the  thriving 
town  of  Sharwood,  in  the  North,  in  October  of  1867. 

Walter  Graham  had  left  the  office  at  four  o'clock 
and  started  out  for  an  evening  walk.  His  limbs  were 
vigorous  ;  they  sought  the  exercise,  or  rather  they 
needed  it,  for  after  all,  there  was  a  slight  indefin- 
able feeling  of  languor  connected  with  them,  not  alto- 
gether in  consonance  with  that  bracing  atittunn  air; 
or  was  it  a  languor  of  the  mind,  a  slight  shade  of 
gloom,  the  first  tinge  of  frost  upon  the  brain,  which, 
unlike  the  frost  upon  the  leaves,  had  failed  to  paint  it 
in  such  radiant  colors. 

He  had  now  been  a  lawyer  for  more  than  four 
months,  and  had  been  bothered  as  yet  with  but  one 
obtrusive  client,  an  old  Irishman,  from  whom  he  had 


DARKNESS   AND   LIGHT.  441 

least  expected  a  call  ;  wrote  a  deed  and  examined 
some  records,  and  received  two  dollars.  Mr.  Martin, 
who  officed  with  the  judge  had  him  appointed  master 
in  a  divorce  case,  for  which  he  had  received  ten  dollars, 
and  these  two  fees  up  to  the  middle  of  October,  con- 
stituted his  legal  earnings. 

True,  he  had  been  appointed  by  the  court  to  defend 
a  man  charged  with  horse-stealing,  for  whom  he  made 
an  able  effort,  but  who  was  convicted  all  the  same,  and 
sentenced  to  five  years  in  the  penitentiary.  Even  the 
reputation  he  had  acquired  as  a  convention  orator 
seemed  fading  as  the  sun  on  the  western  sky.  He 
could  not  see  that  it  had  brought  him  any  clients. 

He  had  exhausted  four  sheets  of  paper  explaining  to 
Blanch  his  fortunes  with  his  first  client.  He  had  read 
a  dozen  times  over  her  answer  to  it,  congratulating  him 
upon  his  success,  which  he  well  understood  had  the 
slightest  vein  of  sweetest  humor  in  it,  and  he  some- 
times fancied  a  little  kindly  stimulant. 

And  yet  how  could  he  say  he  was  entirely  satisfied 
with  his  career  since  he  bade  her  good-by,  that  June 
evening,  in  the  carriage. 

Now  that  she  had  been  home  almost  a  week,  how 
could  he  meet  her  with  that  hope  he  had  cherished, 
and  yet  he  could  not  stay  away ;  he  must  call  on  her 
to-morrow. 

Had  he  been  too  impatient.?  Had  he  been  unwilling 
to  work  and  wait  for  that  success  which  the  old  judge 
had  told  him  was  sure  to  be  his  in  at  least  a  reasonable 
degree,  if  he  continued  studying  and  building  up  char- 
acter? No,  he  did  not  believe  that  this  too  sensible 
feeling  of  dejection  which  seemed  to  be  on  his  soul, 
that  lovely  autumn  evening,  came  from  that.     He  was 


442  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

willing  to  work  as  hard  and  as  long  as  any  other  man, 
to  deserve  success,  if  it  would  onl}'  come  in  the  end. 
He  could  bear  discouragement,  if  he  could  only  be 
honest  in  the  meanwhile  ;  but  oh  !  that  fearful  word 
debt.  He  was  already  in  its  thrall ;  he  felt  its  pangs  ; 
it  was  stinging  like  an  adder.  He  already  owed  Tom 
Swave  thirty  dollars  and  Dave  Miller  forty  more,  and 
his  last  week's  board  bill  unpaid  at  that.  What  pro- 
spect had  he  that  he  could  pay  either  of  them  back  in 
any  reasonable  time.  "  Dave  is  just  starting  in  life," 
said  he,  "to  be  my  brother-in-law  next  week.  Of  coui'se 
he  needs  his  money.  Tom  has  but  very  little.  His 
father  is  really  poorer  than  my  own.  I  know  he  loaned 
me  that  money  simply  because  he  understood  that  I  did 
not  like  to  mention  it  to  my  father,  and  I  was  in  hopes 
that  I  could  have  bridged  it  over  somehow  and  been 
self-sustaining  from  the  start,  got  along  independent  of 
father,  and  dear  knows,  perhaps  he  cannot  help  me 
even  if  he  wishes ;  he  wants  to  give  Mary  a  respectable 
set  out,  and  so  he  should." 

How  many  different  kinds  of  torture  are  there, 
thought  Walter,  as  he  kept  walking  on  that  evening? 
In  all  his  previous  agonies,  including  those  of  his 
spasmodic  loves,  and  the  more  permanent  one  that  he 
had  never  been  able  to  shake  off  since  the  evening  he 
first  looked  into  those  half-crossed  eyes,  this  was  the 
first  time  in  his  life  that  he  had  felt  like  a  thief,  in  debt 
and  notable  to  pay.  "Great  God!  I  must  disclose 
every  thing  to  father  to-morrow  night.  I  can  go  home 
and  husk  corn  this  fall  if  nothing  else." 

He  was  reaching  the  point  of  desperation  ;  enforced 
idleness  was  killins:  him. 


i 


DARKNESS   AND    I,IGHT.  443 

"I  don't  amount  to  as  much  as  Miss  lycsher,"  he 
thought;  "look  what  she  has  done,  only  a  poor  girl. 
That  weakness  which  3'ou  know  poor  father  has,"  as 
she  had  said  to  him  when  he  was  home  on  furlough, 
had  well  nigh  done  its  worst.  Sufhce  it  to  say  they  no 
longer  lived  in  the  same  house  or  kept  the  store  as 
they  did.  Out  of  the  wreck  they  had  saved  one  thous- 
and dollars,  however,  that  Mrs.  Lesher  could  clearly 
prove  was  her  own,  which  half  paid  for  the  cozy  little 
home  in  which  they  now  lived.  Mr.  Lesher,  still  a 
capable  man  in  his  way,  worked  as  kind  of  foreman  in 
a  tobacco  warehouse,  at  which  he  earned  three  hun- 
dred dollars  a  year.  Miss  Lesher  had  gone  to  teaching 
school,  as  she  had  told  him  and  Henry  Kerr  she 
expected  to.  Her  Normal  diploma,  her  strong  activity 
and  high  reputation  as  a  teacher  now  commanded  a 
position  worth  five  hundred  and  fift}'  dollars  per  year 
to  her,  and  thus  the  family  lived  in  their  snug  little 
home  in  a  remote  part  of  the  city. 

All  this  she  told  him  herself,  in  his  friendly  calls 
upon  her.  Naturally  enough,  her  courage,  her  intelli- 
gence, her  noble  example,  challenged  his  admiration, 
and  awakened  his  sympathy,  but  beyond  that  line  they 
never  passed,  never  entered  that  more  sacred  ground. 
She  only  asked  him  as  a  friend.  He  claimed  the  privi- 
lege of  being  that  much. 

Thus  reflected  Walter  Graham,  as  he  took  his  walk 
that  evening,  far  beyond  its  usual  length  out  into  the 
country,  coming  home  through  retired  streets,  up 
through  narrow  alleys,  striking  a  main  thoroughfare 
about  a  square  from  his  office,  at  which  place  he  met 
Mr.  Martin,  who  addressed  him,  "  Halloa,  young  man, 


444  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

you  are  late.  There  has  been  a  gentleman  waiting  in 
the  office  for  you  for  an  hour." 

"  Is  he  there  now?  " 

' '  I  left  him  there. ' ' 

"  Did  you  tell  him  to  wait  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  looks  like  a  client, hurry  up." 

Walter  did  hurry  up,  with  that  strange  expectancy 
which  seizes  one  when  he  is  hoping  for  something  but 
reall}'  expecting  nothing. 

He  entered  the  office.  It  was  already  early  twilight. 
The  back  office  was  slightly  dark  ;  the  stranger  was 
sitting  there  He  arose  as  Walter  entered,  extended 
his  hand  to  Walter's  cordial  "Good  evening,"  and 
replied,  "  Good  evening,  sir,  do  I  have  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  Major  Graham  ?  " 

Walter  held  his  hand  for  a  few  seconds  and  said,  ' '  I 
am  sometimes  called  that.  Just  step  out  in  the  light, 
please  ;  let  me  see  if  I  can  tell  whom  I  have  the  pleasure 
of  meeting.     Well  I  say  it  is  Col.  A.  J.  Clinton." 

"Right  on  the  first  guess,"  replied  Clinton. 

The  rest  you  must  imagine,  as  I  know  you  easily  can, 
that  he  was  Walter's  guest  that  evening  at  the  hotel. 
He  took  him  with  him  for  supper,  after  which  they 
walked  aroui.d  to  Miss  Lesher's  where  he  met,  face  to 
face,  the  lady  who  had  said,  "The  Southerners  were 
nothing  but  a  perfect  set  of  blow-hoins,"  and  she  met, 
face  to  face,  the  man  who  had  .sent  her  "  his  compli- 
ments" for  such  an  opinion. 

How  they  talked  and  impressed  each  other  when 
they  did  meet,  must  also  be  left  to  the  imagination. 
But  I  believe  it  can  be  truthfully  said,  that  neither  of 
them  had  any  vindictive  feeling  toward  the  other  ;  at 
least  Miss  Lesher  said  to  him  once  during  the  evening. 


DARKNESS   AND   LIGHT.  445 

"  Why  do  3'ou  allude  to  the  men  we  had  up  here,  who 
sympathized  with  you  during  the  struggle?  You  don't 
expect  me  to  have  as  much  respect  for  them  as  I  have 
for  you.  No,  I  have  more  respect  for  the  man  who  shot 
my  brother  than  for  them  to-da5\" 

As  they  walked  home  together  Clinton  said  to  Wal- 
ter, "  She  is  a  bright  girl,  isn't  she  ?  " 

"Very." 

' '  Are  you  in  love  with  her  ? ' ' 

"Not  at  all." 

"  You  remember,  I  suppose,  the  occasion  on  which 
I  asked  you  that  same  question   about  Miss  Reed?" 

"Perfectly  well." 

"  May  I  repeat  it?  Are  you  in  love  with  her  now?" 

"  Not  at  all." 

"  Is  she  in  love  with  any  person  ?" 

"  I  think  so." 

Clinton  seemed  to  halt  for  a  second,  then  regained 
his  step  and  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  distance,  then 
said,  "  Shall  we  go  to  your  office  and  talk  for  an  hour  ? 
It  will  be  more  private  than  at  the  hotel." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Walter,  "I  was  just  going  to  pro- 
pose it  when  you  anticipated  me." 

In  a  few  minutes  more  Walter  unlocked  the  office 
door,  turned  up  the  gas,  and  they  both  ensconced 
themselves  in  rocking-chairs  by  the  heater,  when  Clin- 
ton commenced,  "Graham,  I  am  here,  not  merely  in 
the  capacity  of  your  friend,  but  as  your  client  also," 
drawing,  as  he  spoke,  a  ten-dollar  bill  from  his  pocket 
and  passing  it  to  Walter.  "  First  here  is  your  retainer. 
What  more  may  come  of  it  I  do  not  know.  Perhaps 
the  rest  of  the  fee  can  be  made  contingent." 

"One  moment,"   interrupted  Walter,  "before   you 


446  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN, 

go  further.  Is  not  this  merely  a  device  of  yours  to  pay 
back  the  small  favor  I  sent  you  as  a  present  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all.  You  may  have  that  matter 
your  own  way  if  you  wish  ;  please  allow  me  to  have 
my  own  way  now.  You  will  please  call  this  a  retainer 
for  the  business  I  am  about  to  lay  before  you.  You 
know  I  am  a  lawyer  mj^self. " 

Walter  took  the  note,  put  it  in  his  lean  purse,  and 
gave  his  undivided  attention  to  Clinton  as  he  stated 
his  case.  It  was  a  matter  of  some  importance,  and 
consumed  about  an  hour,  when  Clinton  himself  re- 
sumed the  social  side  of  their  conversation  as  follows  : 
"Well,  Graham,  you  see  I  am  one  of  those  hot-blooded 
Southerners  who  go  direct  to  a  subject.  lyCt  me  ask 
5^ou  one  question  further.  You  say  you  think  Miss 
Reed  is  in  love  with  somebod}-.  Do  you  think  that 
person  is  in  love  with  her  ?  " 

"  I  think  their  feelings  are  mutual.'' 

"Who  is  he?" 

"Will.  Morton." 

' '  Are  they  engaged  ? ' ' 

"  I  tiiink  so." 

Clinton  paused  for  an  instant,  drew  his  left  hand 
through  his  hair  and  across  his  forehead.  Walter 
smiled,  and  said,  "  Proceed,  you  will  soon  be  a  better 
Yankee  than  a  Southerner.     You  ask  questions  well." 

Clinton  made  an  effort  and  did  continue.  "  If  I 
remember  Mr.  Morton's  daughter  rightly,  she  was 
rather  a  reserved  young  girl,  and  yet,  with  something 
striking  in  her  countenance,  was  there  not  ?  " 

Walter  coughed  ;  Clinton  continued,  "  She  was  onh^ 
a  young  girl  then.  I  take  it,  she  would  develop  into  a 
lovely  character." 


DARKNESS   AND    LIGHT.  447 

Walter  felt  himself  blushing  to  the  back  of  his  ears, 
and  burst  out,  "One  in  whom  the  elements  are 
so  mixed  that  you  can  hold  her  up  to  the  world  and 
sa5%  '  This  is  a  woman.'  " 

Clinton  perceived  all,  and  after  as  light  pause  gave 
the  subject  another  sudden  turn.  "Well,  let  us  plunge 
into  politics.  Are  you  going  to  force  negro  suffrage 
upon  us  ?  " 

"It  looks  that  way." 

"  Are  you  in  favor  of  it  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  I  was  in  hopes  you  were  not.  Are  the  majority  of 
the  people  of  the  North  in  favor  of  it  ?  " 

' '  I  doubt  if  they  are  ' ' 

"Then  why  are  you  in  favor  of  it,  and  why  do  you 
think  it  will  happen  ?  " 

"  I  am  in  favor  of  it  because  I  believe  it  to  be  jus- 
tice. I  believe  it  will  happen  because  it  is  the  sequence 
to  his  having  fired  a  musket  in  defence  of  the  Union, 
and  because  the  imprudence  of  the  Southern  people  and 
the  obstinacy  of  Andrew  Johnson  have  made  it  pos- 
sible." How  have  we  been  imprudent?  And  how  does 
Andrew  Johnson's  policy  differ  from  Abraham  Lin- 
coln's? Did  not  he  say  he  had  no  conditions  to  impose 
except  the  integrity  of  the  Union  and  the  abandon- 
ment of  slavery?  After  that,  were  we  not  simply  to  be 
let  alone?  What  has  become  of  his  immortal  senti- 
ment alread}',  '  Malice  tow^ard  none,  charity  for  all?  '  " 

"That  .sentiment  is  as  immortal  as  ever,"  replied 
Walter,  but  Abraham  Lincoln  also  said,  'firmne.ss  in 
the  right  as  God  gives  us  to  know  the  right.'  The 
conditions  are  already  different  from  what  they  were 
supposed   to  be   even   then.     Is   the   government  not 


448  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

letting  you  alone  ?  Is  not  the  head  of  the  Confederacy 
out  on  bail,  destined  never  to  be  tried  ?  Has  not  your 
late  vice-president  written  a  constitutional  argument  in 
favor  of  secession?  Has  not  Robert  E.  Lee  retired  in 
peace  to  his  plantation,  and  no  man  in  America  dare 
touch  a  hair  of  his  head  ?  In  short,  is  not  universal 
amnesty  just  as  sure  to  come  as  negro  suffrage?  Tell 
me  this,  have  3'ou  an  organization  in  the  South  known 
as  the  Ku-Klux-Klan  ?  "  "I  never  saw  it,"  replied 
Clinton.  They  both  paused.  Clinton  continued,  "Then 
you  are  in  favor  of  universal  amnesty,  are  you,  as  well 
as  negro  suffrage  ? ' ' 

"  Yes  sir." 

"  That  you  intend  as  a  kind  of  antidote,  do  you,  to 
sugar  coat  the  pill  ?  Tell  me  this,  how  am  I  to  get  my 
friend's  disabilities  removed,  and  how  is  he  to  be 
admitted  to  his  seat  in  Congress?  " 

"You  must  see  the  man  who  is  bossing  the  job 
about  that." 

"Who  is  he?  " 

"Thad.  Stevens." 

"  He  is  a  vindictive  old  fellow,  is  he  not?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  sir,  the  people  of  the  South  simply  do 
not  understand  him.  I  am  told  he  will  giv^e  his  last 
ten  cents  to  a  poor  rebel  in  distress  to-day." 

"  Yes,  but  you  see  this  man  destroyed  his  ironworks 
at  Gettysburg.  The  fact  of  the  matter  is,  my  old  regi- 
ment was  under  his  command  at  the  time." 

"  I  do  not  believe  even  that  will  affect  the  case,  if 
he  conceives  it  one  of  merit." 

Walter  continued,  "  Come  Clinton,  let  us  go  to  bed, 
and  let  the  angels  of  peace  watch  over  both  the  people 
of  the  North  and  the  people  of  the  South." 


DARKNESS   AND   LIGHT.  449 

"  Amen,"  said  Clinton,  as  he  grasped  his  hand,  and 
these  men  but  yesterday  the  most  intrepid  of  combatants, 
now  the  most  cordial  of  friends,  walked  around  to  the 
hotel  together,  Walter  remarking  as  they  proceeded, 
"So  then,  everything  is  understood  ;  you  will  be  with 
us  on  Thursday  at  the  wedding." 

"  I  will  be  there  if  possible." 

They  each  retired  his  room,  Walter  saying  to  him- 
self as  he  closed  the  door:  "Well,  now  to-morrow 
I  will  pay  up  my  board  bill,  and  have  a  few  dollars  left 
for  the  wedding.  Somehow,  I  still  had  an  abiding  faith 
that  something  would  come.  How  beautiful  it  is  to 
feel  that  it  has  not  been  destroyed  ;  and  here  is  Clinton's 
old  letter  acknowledging  my  favor  at  the  close  of  the 
war,  in  which  I  read,  '  Your  letter  fell  like  a  sunbeam 
through  the  clouds  that  enveloped  our  home.  And 
now  even  I  think  I  see  a  light  shining  in  the  distance, 
where  but  five  hours  ago  I  thought  it  was  midnight.'  " 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  FIRST  REUIVIOM. 

ON  the  following  Thursda)-  Walter  was  at  home 
at  his  sister's  wedding.  The  bride  and  groom 
were  clad  in  good  clothes,  neat,  plain,  unpretentious  ; 
happ3^  vigorous  in  action,  robust  in  health  and  mated 
b}^  nature.  The  company  was  informal  and  easy  to 
the  highest  degree.  It  con.sisted  not  only  of  Dave's 
old  schoolmates,  who  had  been  in  the  arm}^  but  many 
of  those  who  had  not.  High.  Bowers  and  Ben., 
Wilse  lyong,  Mart.  Bernard  and  sisters.  It  seemed 
already  to  be  a  genuine  burial  of  the  factional  strife 
engendered  by  Pat.'s  campaign,  and  a  cordial  smoking 
of  the  pipe  of  peace. 

Wendell  Phillips  Bolton  and  his  two  sisters,  Hannah 
and  Alice,  were  of  the  companj-.  Miss  Lesher  had 
slipped  away  a  day  to  be  present.  The  Mansdale 
people  consisted  of  Will.  Morton  and  Blanch,  Cousin 
Ida  and  Emma  Reed  ;  Mr.  Wagner,  Prof  Baker,  Mr. 
Williamson  and  their  wives  were  there,  of  course,  and 
Clinton  was  able  to  make  the  connection.  Mr.  Hartly 
was  there  in  his  official  capacity.  Of  course,  no  such 
personal  pique  as  had  been  intimated  prevailed  against 
him  on  this  occasion.  And  besides,  his  own  good 
taste  had  suggested  that  it  would  be  fitting  that  Mr. 
Hirsh  should  at  least  assist  in  the  process  of  welding 
these  two  lives  into  one. 

As  the  companj^  was  seated  around  the  large  table 
after   the   dinner  was    well    nigh   over,    Prof.    Baker 


THK   FIRST   REUNION.  451 

remarked,  "  Behold,  we  have  Andrew  Jackson  Clinton 
at  one  end  of  the  table  and  Wendell  Philips  Bolton  at 
the  other.  In  fact,  in  taking  a  survey  of  this  company, 
it  looks  about  as  much  like  a  reunion  as  a  wedding." 

"This  is  the  first  reunion  of  your  boys  and  girls. 
Professor,  of  the  old  soldiers  and  the  antagonistic  ele- 
ments forming  a  new  Union,"  said  Mr.  Williamson. 
' '  I  think  it  would  be  fitting  for  Andrew  Jackson  Clin- 
ton to  respond  to  the  toast,  "The  New  Union." 

The  company  clapped  their  hands,  and  said,  "  Happy 
thought ;  no  backing  out,  Clinton." 

Clinton  looked  over  the  field,  smiled  on  the  radiant 
faces  that  were  smiling' on  him,  arose  and  said  : 

' '  'The  New  Union !  By  the  Eternal,  it  must  and  shall 
be  preserved.'  The  union  of  Miller  and  Graham,  this 
da}-  framed  under  this  hospitable  roof,  and  sanctified  by 
God,  we  know  is  fraternal  and  will  endure  to  the  end. 
L,et  the  new  Union  of  the  States  be  preserved  in  a  peace, 
a  fraternity  and  prosperity  commensurate  with  the 
fire,  the  blood  and  the  death  with  which  the  old  Union 
was  preserved. 

"  My  friends,  if  there  are  an}-  persons  in  my  section 
who  doubt  whether  the  Union  has  been  preserved,  let 
me  assure  you,  I  am  not  one  of  them.  There  is  a  his- 
tory stretching  over  four  years  of  recorded  time,  you 
may  call  it  what  you  please,  there  is  nought  in  the 
name,  but  it  reaches  from  Sumter  to  Appomattox.  It 
attests  that  the  Union  has  been  preserved.  Those  who 
cannot  so  read  it  are  stone  blind,  for  the  pen  was  a 
sword,  and  the  ink  was  blood  that  recorded  it,  and 
there  it  stands  in  burning  letters  of  red.  The  Union 
is  preserved,  slavery  is  abolished.  Friends  of  the 
North,  soldiers  of  the  Union  army,  with  that  are  you 


452  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

not  content  ?  It  was  all  \^ou  asked,  more  than  5'ou  con- 
tended for  in  the  beginning.  Do  you  insist  on  negro 
equality  ?  Is  it  fair  that  you  add  that  to  your  conquest  ? 
I  await  the  answer." 

Clinton  sat  down  amid  silence,  but  not  a  painful  one. 
All  eyes  turned  instinctively  to  Mr.  Williamson,  but 
the  old  man  said,  "  It  is  not  my  day;  it  belongs  to  the 
young  folks.  Let  Wendell  P.  Bolton  resf)ond  to  the 
toast,  the  fifteenth  amendment." 

The  boys  clapped,  the  girls  smiled,  and  Bolton  rose 
and  said,  "My  friends,  I  feel  that  my  friend  at  the 
other  end  of  the  table  and  myself  are  the  victims  of 
names.  That  is  what  there  is  in  a  name  to-day.  The 
name  my  friend  bears  has  been  rendered  illustrious 
because  it  said,  '  the  Union  must  and  shall  be  pre- 
served.' Mine  was  made  odious  because  it  said,  'dis- 
solution is  my  method,  dissolution  is  my  cure.  I  would 
take  down  the  dam  of  the  Union  and  let  loose  the 
torrent  of  God's  waterworks,  and  like  all  other  cur- 
rents, it  will  clear  a  channel  for  itself.' 

"  What  motive  had  he  for  dissolution  in  the  abstract? 
What  channel  did  he  wish  to  clear?  I  take  it  that  it 
was  the  channel  of  equality,  something  in  the  nature 
of  the  fifteenth  amendment.  Who  had  turned  the 
greater  somersault,  the  followers  of  Jackson  or  Wen- 
dell Phillips,  when  the  morning  after  the  lurid  fire 
broke  forth  from  Sumter's  walls,  he  shook  the  stais 
and  stripes  before  the  multitude  in  Faneuil  Hall  and 
said,  '  proclaim  liberty  through  all  the  land,  to  all  the 
inhabitants  thereof!'  Who  was  he  then,  the  fanatic 
of  the  past  or  the  seer  of  the  present,  the  philosopher 
of  reform,  the  prophet  of  freedom,  the  proclaimer  of 
the  new  dispensation  ?     The  man  who  did  not  care  to 


THE   FIRST   REUNION.  453 

inquire  about  intentions,  but  could  foresee  results. 
The  man  who  had  read  history  with  his  e3'es  and  not 
with  prejudices.  Perhaps  it  is  my  turn  now  to  enjoy 
a  little  popularity  with  my  name.  All  this  I  suppose 
is  what  we  call  a  revolution,  and,  I  take  it,  will  ulti- 
mately carry  the  fifteenth  amendment  with  it,  not 
with  malice  to  our  friends  of  the  South,  but  with  jus- 
tice to  the  negro." 

"Sit  down,  you  are  through,"  exclaimed  George 
Miller,    "No  man  is  to  speak  over  three   minutes." 

"Good,"  said  Tom  Swave,  "always  stick  to  the 
maxim,  'quit  when  you  are  done.'  Ben  Wade  says, 
the  man  who  can't  saj'  all  he  has  to  sa}-  in  five  minutes, 
is  not  fit  to  be  in  the  Senate." 

The  boys  laughed,  and  the  girls  smiled  charmingly. 
Mr.  Williamson  remarking,  ' '  The  next  toast  will  be 
from  Thomas  Swave.     Gettj'sburg. " 

Tom  arose  and  said,  "  My  friends,  you  do  me  an  in- 
justice. My  toast  implies  that  I  should  speak  of  my- 
self, but  I  will  not.  Gett3'sburg  is  the  centre  of  the 
greatest  galaxy  on  the  canopy  of  war,  which  is  made  up 
of  the  five  hundred  engagements  of  the  American 
conflict,  an  imperishable  star  in  the  diadem  of  battles  ; 
the  twin  sister  of  Mcksburg  ;  the  counterpart  of  Shiloh; 
the  sequence  to  Harper's  Ferry ;  the  tidal  wave 
of  Fredericksburg  and  Chancellorsville  ;  the  prelude 
to  Appomattox  ;  the  Marathon  of  modern  civilization  ; 
the  Waterloo  of  America.  Gettysburg  is  immortality. 
Victor  Hugo  says,  '  Waterloo  bears  divine  right  on  its 
crupper. '  Divine  right  of  what  ?  Does  he  mean  kings  f 
If  so,  it  was  right  to  place  it  upon  the  crupper.  Then 
the  analogy  was  complete,  for  the  stay  of  the 
Bourbons   in  France   after  Waterloo  was  short.     But 


454  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Gettysburg  has  a  prouder  record.  She  bears  the 
equalit}^  of  man  on  her  brow-band.  When  Robert 
Edmunds  I^ee  got  down  from  that  seminary  tower,  on 
the  third  day  of  July,  1863,  and  called  his  shattered 
ranks  to  rest,  the  Emancipation  Proclamation  became 
a  living  reality.  When  he  turned  from  that  field,  leav- 
ing thirt}'  thousand  dead  and  djang  Confederate  sol- 
diers behind,  and  led  his  scarred  columns  back  through 
the  mountain  gaps  to  old  Virginia,  negro  suffrage  fol- 
lowed in  his  wake.  Wellington  said  he  had  a  detest- 
able army  at  Waterloo.  Think  of  Aleade  saying  that 
at  Gettysburg;  those  thirteen  dead  horses  lying  around 
his  headquarters  would  have  been  supplemented  by  a 
dead  commanding  general." 

"Sit  down,"  cried  Will.  Morton,  "you  are  off  the 
subject;  you  are  on  dead  horses."  "The  subject  is 
Gettysburg,  Revolution  and  all  that  follows,"  said 
Walter. 

"Revolution!  that  is  a  hard  thing  to  define,"  said 
Prof  Baker. 

"Yes,  but  the  boys  have  been  doing  well,  "said  Mr. 
Williamson.  "Suppose  we  let  them  try  it."  The 
next  toast  is  Revolution,  Walter  Graham.  Meanwhile, 
the  company  had  been  enjoying  themselves  hugely, 
the  men  commenting  wisely  and  the  girls  smiling 
thoughtfully.  Blanch  sitting  between  Sue  and  Miss 
Eesher  remarked,  "  I  wish  thej^  would  let  them  go  on 
without  interuption,  I  am  so  interested." 

The  two  quaker  cousins,  Hannah  and  Alice  Bolton, 
sent  proud  glances  up  the  table  to  their  captain  brother; 
Sue,  Miss  Lesher,  Cousin  Ida  and  Emma  Reed  all 
exclaimed,  ' '  Proceed  with  the  toasts,  we  are  all  enrap- 
tured." 


THE    FIRST  REUNION.  455 

Clinton  cast  furtive  glances  down  both  sides  of  the 
table  as  Walter  arose  and  said,  "Revolution!  What 
is  that.?  The  things  that  never  go  backwards  ;  the 
turning  of  the  world  upside  down  ;  the  standing  of 
society  on  its  head  ;  the  something  that  rides  on  des- 
tiny's wings;  that  which  succeeds.  .A  dozen  men 
fighting  in  the  street  is  a  mob  ;  tw^enty  men  resisting 
the  police  is  a  riot  ;  a  regiment  under  a  recognized 
leader,  but  without  uniform,  and  fighting  the  consti- 
tuted authorities  with  old  shot-guns  and  rifles,  that  is 
insurrection  ;  ten  regiments,  disciplined,  uniformed, 
armed  with  muskets  and  obeying  orders  from  a  general 
commander,  that  is  rebellion.  Our  forefathers  suc- 
ceeded against  old  England,  hence  it  was  revolution. 
Our  friends  in  the  South  failed,  hence  it  was  rebellion. 
How  close  the  distinction,  and  yet  how  great,  'Tis 
the  difference  between  success  and  defeat.  Victor  Hugo 
says,  '  If  you  want  to  know  what  revolution  is,  call  it 
progress  ;  if  you  want  to  know  what  progress  is  call  it 
to-morrow^'  Then,  to-morrow%  I  suppose,  we  will  have 
negro  suffrage.  True,  indeed,  in  the  beginning  we  aimed 
not  at  it,  but  there  is  a  divinity  that  shapes  the  ends 
of  nations  as  well  as  of  individuals.  When  that  col- 
ored brigade  came  back  from  their  heroic  charge  on 
Fort  Wagner,  all  bleeding  and  rent,  negro  suffrage 
was  born.  Every  colored  soldier  lying  dead  on  that 
ground  stood  for  ten  thousand  converts.  Every  drop 
of  colored  blood  that  moistened  the  soil  of  South  Caro- 
lina that  day  is  crying  out  for  a  negro  ballot.  Shall 
that  prayer  be  denied  ?  Revolution  answers,  no. 
When  Appomattox  day  had  come,  one  sane  man  in 
New  York  wended  his  way  up  to  the  editorial  sanc- 
tum of  the  Tribune  building  and  proclaimed  to  the 
crazy  multitude  of  rejoicers  the  basis  of  reconstruction, 


456  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

'  Universal  amnesty,  impartial  suffrages ;  revolution 
shall  embrace  his  maxim.  Why?  Because  it  is  the 
revolution  of  an  American  and  not  of  a  French  people." 

"  Sit  down,"  cried  Mart.  Bernard,  "  you  are  alluding 
to  old  Greeley,"  "the  man  that  bailed  Jeff.  Davis," 
said  Ben.  Bowers.  "  How  is  it  Mr.  Williamson,"  said 
George  Miller;  "it  bothers  some  of  us  that  were  in 
Andersonville  to  swallow  it."  "Oh,  as  a  matter  of 
sentiment,  we  would  have  preferred  some  one  else  to 
have  done  the  bailing.  As  a  matter  of  principle  I  guess 
we  will  have  to  stand  b}'  it." 

' '  Didn't  I  tell  you,  you  didn't  know  your  own  man  ?" 
said  Jake  Boyle. 

"All  right,"  responded  George  ;  "  whatever  you  say, 
Mr.  Williamson,  we  will  stand  by." 

"The  next  toast  shall  be  the  Bride  and  Groom,  by 
Professor  Baker,"  said  Will.  Morton. 

' '  One  moment, ' '  said  Sue,  as  she  rapped  on  the  table, 
"  do  you  know  it  is  time  the  bride  and  groom  were  stir- 
ring, if  they  are  going  to  take  their  bridal  trip  on  the 
4.30  train."  "All  right,"  said  the  Professor,  "we  can 
make  it  short,  "  God  Bless  the  Bride  and  Groom." 

The  whole  company  responded  with  a  hearty 
'  'Amen. ' '  It  need  onl}^  be  said  here  that  God  did  bless  the 
bride  and  groom,  through  a  prosperous  and  happy  life. 
And  the  happy  bustle  and  excitement  incident  to  get- 
ting them  to  the  station  sent  more  thrills  of  joy  through 
hearts  than  need  be  mentioned.  Briefly  to  say,  the 
carriages  are  at  the  door.  Hurry  in  the  bride  and 
groom,  jump  in  George  and  Sue,  Walter  and  your 
quaker  kinswoman,  Hannah,  Joe  and  Beckie;  still  there 
are  carriages  left.  Give  them  a  good  send  off  to  the 
depot.     Here  Tom,  Blanch,  get  in  this  buggy.     Where 


THE    FIRST    REUNION.  457 

is  Clinton  ?  He  went  out  at  the  other  door.  No,  he 
came  out  this  way.  Miss  Lesher  is  laughing  and  talk- 
ing with  the  rest.  She  draws  back  a  little  from  the 
crowd  ;  did  she  do  it  half  wishing  to  evade  somebody  ? 
Did  Clinton  go  the  other  way  not  wishing  to  attract 
attention  ?  At  all  events  they  two  would  meet  right  at 
the  end  of  the  porch,  while  merry  voices  are  still 
exclaiming,  "Still  another  buggy  here,  Mr.  Clinton, 
Miss  Lesher,  occupj'  this  vehicle,  help  to  swell  the 
crowd."  So  the  procession  starts.  No  difference 
which  door  you  come  out  at  Clinton,  Blanch,  Tom, 
Walter,  all  the  results  will  be  the  same.  Take  which 
path  you  ma}^  the  invisible  form  of  destiny  will  stretch 
herself  across  it. 


S 


CHAPTER     XXVI. 

GETTYSBrRG  OR  COLD  HARBOR. 

NOVEMBER  followed  October,  and  bleak  December 
had  made  her  appearance.  Tom  Swave  looked 
out  of  his  father's  store  window,  across  the  country 
and  up  towards  the  Graham  home  ;  but  the  trees  were 
brown  and  bare  ;  the}'  no  longer  bore  the  varied  hues 
they  did  six  weeks  before  when  he  rode  from  the  wed- 
ding with  Blanch  Morton  over  to  the  depot.  The  polit- 
ical horizon  was  also  a  little  blustery.  He  heard  rum- 
blings from  Washington  which  sounded  not  very 
unlike  those  which  came  up  from  the  South  seven 
years  before.  Of  course,  ttie  air  was  not  pregnant 
with  such  frightful  issues  as  in  the  winter  of  1 860-61, 
but  the  situation  was  exciting  enough.  Andrew  John- 
son had  removed  Edwin  M.  Stanton  from  his  position 
as  Secretary  of  War  in  open  defiance  of  the  Tenure  of 
Office  Act.  Such  legislation,  it  was  contended,  was  a 
bold,  unconstitutional  usurpation  of  the  President's 
powers.  But  would  a  Republican  Congress  allow  the 
President  to  boldly  set  their  laws  at  defiance  in  that  way 
They  had  passed  the  law  for  the  express  purpose  of 
checkmating  his  apostac}-  in  the  great  march  of  recon- 
struction. The  challenge  was  to  be  accepted.  Con- 
gress had  already  convened  and  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives was  to  file  articles  of  impeachment,  for  the 
first  time  in  our  history  against  a  President  of  the 
United  States.     The  Senate  had  already  appointed  a 


GETTYSBURG   OR   COLD   HARBOR.  459 

committee  to  wait  upon  General  Grant  to  ascertain 
whether  in  the  event  of  a  crisis  he  would  stand  by  a 
two-thirds  majority  of  Congress,  or  with  the  executive; 
the  situation  was  indeed  critical.  But,  notwithstand- 
ing all  that,  Tom  Swave's  soul  was  tempest-tossed 
from  another  source  that  da}-. 

He  had  resolved  to  go  into  business  with  his  father 
and  lead  a  useful  life.  He  had  no  difficulty  in  securing 
his  pension  and  had  been  clothing  himself  snugly  out  of 
it,  and  helping  his  father  about  the  store  generally  for 
his  board  ;  but  altogether  he  had  been  living,  since  he 
returned  from  the  arm}-,  rather  an  aimless  and  indo- 
lent life,  and  candor  would  have  compelled  him  to 
admit  that  it  was  not  altogether  unpleasant  to  his  feel- 
ings. But  he  was  conscious  also  of  the  fact  that  he 
had  powers  and  resources  capable  of  bearing  his  share 
of  weight  in  the  community,  and  conscience  enough  to 
tell  him  at  times  that  he  should  do  so  ;  in  short,  he 
had  now  resolved  to  make  a  man  of  himself. 

With  this  knowledge  of  his  own  powers,  and  with 
this  virtuous  resolution  in  his  mind,  he  made  his  way 
that  cold  December  evening  to  Mortons'. 

What  took  him  there,  do  you  ask  ?  The  same  irre- 
sistible thought  which  had  taken  him  there  that 
bright  June  day  in  1864.  What  warrant  had  he  for 
his  action,  do  you  ask?  The  fact  that  Blanch  had 
always  treated  him  with  the  greatest  kindness,  the  fact 
that  she  had  said  on  the  day  of  the  wedding  to  him, 
Walter  and  Mr.  Bolton,  as  she  smiled  her  unmistakable 
smile,  "Oh,  Cousin  Ida  and  I  have  ignored  society. 
We  are  not  going  to  do  anything  this  winter  but  enjo)^ 
ourselves  at  home,  study  Shakespeare  and  Johnson, 
read  novels  and  the  magazines,  and  play  euchre  with 


460  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

you,  Miss  Emma  and  Miss  Deaver,  when  you  drop 
in," — the  fact  that  she  said  to  him  one  evening,  when 
he  was  there,  half  patronizingly,  half  humorously, 
"  Gettysburg  is  immortality."  The  fact  that  when  he 
replied  to  her,  half  twittingly,  "Oh,  you  think  Wal- 
ter's was  the  best,"  she  replied,  "Oh,  I  think  they 
were  all  superb,  but  you  don't  suppose  I  think  any- 
thing could  exceed  immortality,"  and  then,  continuing, 
with  a  smile  and  a  twinkle  of  merriment,  '  'you  ought 
to  ask  Cousin  Ida  which  she  thinks  was  the  best." 
The  fact  that  he  was  really  quite  handsome,  capable, 
intelligent,  and  an  agreeable  conversationalist ;  the 
fact  in  short,  that  Blanch  Morton's  countenance  always 
did  light  up  a  little  when  she  met  him  at  the  door, 
are  the  facts  which  warranted  him  in  going  over  to 
Mansdale  the  night  now  in  question. 

Of  course,  he  is  not  supposed  to  have  heard  Aunt 
Mar\'  sa}^  to  Mr.  Morton  one  evening,  in  response  to  his 
rather  solicitious  inquiry,  "  Well,  of  course,  Edward,  I 
am  not  a  mind-reader,  and  can't  answer  these  ques- 
tions, certainly;  and,  indeed,  from  ostensible  appear- 
ances, you  might  suppose  sometimes  that  she  really 
enjo3'S  the  society  of  Tom  Swave  better  than  that  of 
any  other  man,  and  indeed  he  is  very  agreeable  in 
many  ways ;  but  then,  as  I  said,  I  have  my  other 
impression,  because  Blanch  has  only  an  open,  sincere 
nature.     She  never  means  to  flirt." 

Of  course,  he  did  not  hear  Mr.  Morton  reply,  "Yes, 
I  know  all  that,  how  true  a  character  she  really  is ;  and 
while  I  will  try  to  use  philosophy  and  suppress  every 
emotion,  to  laj^  no  obstacle  in  the  waj^  of  her  true  hap- 
piness, having  the  implicit  confidence  I  do  have  in  her 


i 


GETTYSBURG   OR   COI.D    HARBOR.  461 

good  taste  and  judgment,  nevertheless,  I  can't  help 
hoping  it  may  result  in  a  certain  -way." 

Of  course,  he  could  not  look  into  all  of  Blanch  Mor- 
ton's secret  experiences  and  feelings  and  know  that 
she  had  had  to  positively  insult  Mr.  Shaw  and  his 
flowing  mustache  to  get  rid  of  him  ;  that,  while  young 
Mr.  Herr  had  wealth,  social  standing  and  culture,  he 
was  rather  too  effeminate  in  his  nature,  and  lacking  to 
some  extent  that  individuality  of  character  necessar\^ 
to  challenge  her  highest  admiration  ;  that  Dr.  Sher- 
man, scholar  and  gentleman  that  he  was,  with  his 
high  reputation  for  probity  and  uprightness,  with  all 
his  bright  prospects  of  success,  had  still  a  latent  streak 
of  selfishness  nestled  down  in  his  heart ;  a  little  cor- 
ner that  was  still  too  cold  to  fire  Blanch  Morton's  love. 

Though  he  could  not  positively  know  all  these 
things  yet  so  far  as  his  own  powers  of  observation  and 
penetration  went,  he  did  have  a  kind  of  presentiment 
that  night,  that  unless  Walter  Graham  had  made 
known  his  mind  to  her,  Blanch  Morton  was  untram- 
meled  by  any  embarassing  alliances.  Thus  it  was  that 
he  was  seated  at  the  table  that  December  night,  with 
her  and  Ida.  They  all  seemed  in  their  happiest  mood  ; 
he  had  been  reading  the  papers  to  them  and  discussing 
the  political  situation.  In .  due  time  those  subjects 
became  exhausted,  when  Ida  said,  cheerfully,  "  L,et  us 
have  a  game  of  euchre."  "All  right,"  said  Blanch, 
"Aunt  Mary  and  I  will  play  you  and  Tom."  They 
were  soon  .seated  around  the  table,  in  high  glee,  when 
it  came  to  pass  that,  as  Tom  was  drawing  in  a  trick, 
Blanch  reached  over  to  the  cards,  and  turning  them 
up,  said,  "  Let  me  see  what  that  was,  Tom,  you  didn't 
play  your  spade  then." 


462  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"  Don't  be  looking  at  the  cards  after  they  are  drawn 
in;  keep  your  hand  away  or  I  will  kiss  it,"  exclaimed 
Tom,  sportively,  grasping  it  with  his  own  and  laying 
at  the  next  instant  his  lips  involuntarily  upon  it. 

"  Behave  yourself,"  said  Blanch,  "  I  want  to  see  if 
you  were  cheating,"  and  proceeded  with  the  game 
with  perfect  composure. 

Blanch  Morton  despised  a  prude  as  thoroughly  as 
she  did  a  man  who,  by  word  or  deed,  disclosed  an  un- 
chaste thought.  The  space  between  the  sublime  and 
the  ridiculous  is  measured  by  a  step,  though  it  takes  a 
great  mind  to  see  it ;  the  space  between  squeamishness 
and  true  modesty  is  still  more  subtle,  and  only  the 
truly  virtuous  can  perceive  it.  Where  that  line  was, 
Blanch  Morton  knew  as  well  as  she  knew  her  alpha- 
bet ;  not  from  any  knowledge  she  had  ever  acquired 
from  books,  but  from  what  she  had  received  direct  from 
God.  She  knew  by  instinct  that  the  man  trod  not  the 
earth  who  would  dare  to  take  an}^  improper  liberty 
with  her,  and  yet  she  understood  but  partly  that  the 
harmless  act  that  poor  Tom  Swave  had  just  performed 
was  because  he  was  in  the  hands  of  a  power  greater 
than  himself;  she  understood  not  that,  but  he  did. 
The  smile  of  unfeigned  innocence  with  which  she  had 
responded  to  the  act  was- the  smile  of  heaven.  Her 
demeanor  through  that  little  act  was  simply  of  that 
character  which  defies  description. 

Tom  played  out  the  balance  of  the  evening,  but  his 
powers  as  a  player  were  gone  ;  his  mind  was  discon- 
certed, his  thoughts  were  slow,  he  would  have  to  be 
reminded  when  to  play,  would  forget  what  was  trump, 
and  lost  every  time.  He  bade  good-bye  both  cheer- 
fully and  dreamil}^,  and  started  for  home.     His  horse 


GETTYSBURG   OR    COLD    HARBOR.  463 

found  the  way  while  he  dreamed.  When  he  arrived  at 
his  home  he  sat  for  an  hour  in  the  arm-chair,  looking 
into  the  coals,  whose  warm  light  shone  through  the 
glass.  He  went  to  bed,  but  closed  not  his  eyes  in 
sleep  until  he  heard  the  boy  below,  raking  the  fire  in 
the  stove.  He  then  fell  into  a  nap  and  was  called  an 
hour  later  to  come  to  breakfast.  He  arose,  rubbed  his 
eyes  and  said  mentally,  "  I  have  seen  only,  in  my  nap, 
that  hand,  with  its  perfect  symmetry,  with  that  heavy 
diamond  ring,  and  that  plain  gold  one ;  no  other 
jewelry.  Feel  my  lips  ;  are  they  perfumed  ?  I  know 
they  have  been  sanctified.  They  have  touched  that 
which  is  holy  and  consecrated.  I  must  hear  from 
Blanch's  hand.  I  hope  I  have  not  injured  it  ;  that  I 
have  left  no  damning  blotch  upon  it  that  will  not  rub 
out.  No,  I  have  no  fear  of  that,  nothing  can  soil  her  ; 
but  just  think  she  actually  allowed  my  unworthy  lips 
to  touch  it.  What  am  I  ?  What  have  I  ?  I  am  a 
man  with  soul  and  feelings  like  the  rest  of  humanity 
at  least ;  I  have  little  to  be  proud  of,  to  be  sure,  but 
Blanch  herself,  reminds  me  that  I  have  Gettysburg.. 
Yes,  I  have  that  (looking  down  at  his  lame  knee),  but 
that  will  not  get  me  bread,  besides  it  is  but  vanity 
which  refers  to  it.  Still,  I  must  admit,  I  see  already  a 
magic  charm  in  the  word  Gettysburg,  as  it  passed  down 
the  ages.  But  hold,  I  hear  another  name,  'tis  Cold 
Harbor.  It  ma}^  not  thunder  so  loud  in  the  index,  but 
I  read  between  its  blood-red  letters  another  name,  'tis 
Walter  Graham,  my  first  love.  I  just  now  dreamed 
that  he  too  was  kissing  that  hand.  Great  God  !  Why 
is  it  that  we  thus  confront  each  other?" 

He  dressed  himself  with  an  effort,  went  down  stairs, 
forced  a  few  bites  of  breakfast  into  his  stomach,  and 


464  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

dreamed  the  day  away.  At  half-past  eight  he  could  have 
been  found  at  Morton's,  where  he  had  been  twenty-four 
hours  before.  He  was  seated  on  the  sofa  with  Blanch, 
who  was  naturally  a  little  surprised  at  his  presenting 
himself  so  soon  after  his  previous  visit.  At  the  very 
first  opportunity, when  the  other  members  of  the  family 
had  transiently  stepped  out  for  something,  leaving 
them  alone,  he  turned  toward  her,  took  her  by  the 
hand,  and  said,  "  Blanch,  I  know  you  are  surprised  at 
my  being  here  to-night."  Blanch  turned  her  face 
towards  his,  looked  into  it,  and  saw  in  an  instant  what 
was  coming. 

The  reader  may  perhaps  have  perceived  by  this  time 
that  Blanch  Morton  was  not  entirely  a  novice  to  such 
experiences;  but,  nevertheless,  she  could  look  now  into 
the  face  of  this  applicant,  as  she  had  into  that  of  all 
others  and  say  before  God  she  was  innocent  of  all 
coquetry,  but  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  in  this  instance, 
she  was  not  entirely  surprised.  Nay,  since  there  is 
nothing  to  be  withheld,  it  ma}'  as  well  be  admitted 
her  hand  trembled  a  little.  But  the  look  she  was  giving 
to  Tom  vSwave  then  was  the  look  of  deepest  pity,  and 
pity  is  not  love.  How  near  it  comes  to  that  line  we 
shall  not  now  attempt  to  define.  It  may  have  been  near 
enough  to  deceive  Tom  for  the  first  instant  after  his 
first  sentence.  At  all  events  she  did  not  stop  him  and 
he  proceeded. 

"  Blanch,  I  said  I  knew  j^ou  were  surprised  at  my 
coming  here  to-night,  but  now  do  I  see  that  you  under- 
stand all  ?  L,et  me  be  brief,  for  I  am  choking.  Blanch, 
may  I  ever  hope  to  address  you  b}^  the  sacred  name  of 
wife  ?" 

Blanch  looked  at  him  for  another  minute  with  a 
steadfast  sympathy,  while  he  still  held  her  hand,  which 


GETTYSBURG   OR   COLD   HARBOR.  465 

he  was  still  unable  to  interpret  until  after  she  had 
spoken  her  first  word,  at  which  instant  he  saw  that  he 
was  rejected,  but  that  the  blow  was  to  be  dealt  with  a 
gentleness,  a  sweetness,  a  S3mipath5^  that  he  could 
have  hoped  would  last  forever. 

"  Tom,"  she  said,  "  please  forgive  me  if  I  have  ever 
done  anything  wrong  in  all  our  pleasant  acquaintance, 
anything  calculated  to  mislead  j-ou  in  placing  your 
afiections  where  they  now  are,  and  believe  me  that  I 
do  most  sincerely  pity  j'ou,  but  3'ou,  good  Tom,  the 
friend  of  Walter  Graham,  would  not  wish  me  to  come 
to  you  for  pity's  sake  alone." 

Tom  dropped  his  head  for  a  moment,  looked  up 
again,  and  said,  "Blanch,  angels  could  not  have  cast 
me  off  more  sweeth',  nor  God  himself  have  given  a 
better  reason  for  it.  No,  pity  can  never  supplant  love. 
Blanch,  j-ou  love  Walter  Graham  ;  he  loves  you  ;  has 
he  ever  made  it  known  to  j'ou  ?" 

Blanch  shook  with  emotion  and  managed  to  replj^, 
"  He  never  has  by  word." 

"He  will  soon,"  responded  Tom,  and  Blanch's 
emotion  increased.  The}^  sat  in  silence  in  that  posi- 
tion for  two  minutes.  He  then  arose,  still  holding  her 
hand  in  his  ;  she  arose  with  him;  he  looked  once 
more  into  her  ej^es  ;  she  seemed  more  calm  ;  he  said, 
"  Blanch,  pardon  me  for  what  I  have  done,  it  may  be  a 
long  time  before  I  see  you  again,  perhaps  never.  It 
may  be  that  great  distance  will  separate  me  from  5'ou 
and  Walter,  but  before  I  leave  I  am  going  to  ask  one 
more  privilege,"  and  laying  his  two  hands  upon  her 
two  cheeks,  he  bent  his  head  and  impressed  a  kiss  on 
her  lips,  saying,  "I  know  Walter  will  not  be  jealous 


466  WALTER  GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

of  just  one,  you  have  thousands  left  for  him  ;  good-by. 
You  both  have  my  blessing." 

He  had  turned  and  was  almost  at  the  door,  when 
she  arrested  his  progress,  as  follows:  "Tom,  promise 
me  one  thing,  before  you  go  ;  that  if  ever  you  are  in 
distress,  ever  suffering  for  a  friend,  you  will  let  me 
know." 

"You  have  my  promise,  good-by,"  and  he  passed 
out  at  the  door.  A  minute  later  Aunt  Mary  entered 
the  room,  saying,  "  Where  is  Tom  ?  " 

"He  has  gone,  he  said  good  by  ;  will  you  excuse 
me,  Aunt  Mary,  if  I  retire?"  And  so  saying,  she 
passed  up  to  her  room. 

Tom  proceeded  to  the  depot  and  waited  for  the  eleven 
p.  M.  train  to  Sharwood.  In  the  morning,  when  Wal- 
ter Graham  rose,  he  found  a  letter  shoved  under  his 
chamber  door.  As  he  picked  it  up  he  recognized  the 
writing,  but  there  was  no  postmark  ;  it  had  not  come 
through  the  mail.     Opening  it,  he  read  as  follows  : 

Dear  Walter: — You  are  wanted  at  Morton's  to-night,  without 
fail.     It  is  I  who  goes  West.  Yours  very  truly, 

Tom. 

All  day  Walter's  mind  dwelt  on  that  letter  and  what 
it  meant.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  at  exactly  eight  o'clock 
that  night  he  was  in  Morton's  parlor. 

At  nine  o'clock  he  knew  that  Blanch  Morton  was  to 
be  his  wife.  He  now  understood  what  that  letter 
meant.  He  told  Blanch  all  about  it.  She  told  him 
everything  about  Tom's  visit,  concealing  nothing. 
Their  joy  was  unbounded  ;  it  is  useless  to  describe  it ; 
you  have  all  grown  weary  of  such  descriptions  ;  you 
have  heard  them  for  the  thousandth  time,  and  yet  the 
next  author  goes  right  on  describing  them  again,  just 


GETTYSBURG   OR   COLD    HARBOR.  467 

as  if  it  had  never  been  done  before,  and,  strange  to  say, 
he  still  finds  people  who  will  read  that  part  of  his 
book  ;  but  this  much  we  must  be  allowed  to  say  in  this 
instance  :  God's  will  had  been  done.  There  had  been 
no  miscarriage  in  heaven's  decree.  You  have  doubt- 
less, long  since,  formed  your  own  opinion  as  to  the 
fitness  of  this  marriage,  all  the  conditions  attending  it, 
age,  size,  health,  disposition,  education,  cast  of  mind, 
home  culture,  social  standing,  family  position,  recipro- 
city of  thought,  mutuality  of  feeling,  unity  of  pur- 
pose, lack  of  jealousy,  fullness  of  trust,  love.  In 
short,  we  have  only  to  say,  that  if  this  union  does  not 
come  out  all  right,  we  may  as  well  all  of  us  join  the 
ranks  of  those  who  inquire,  "  Is  marriage  a  failure?  " 
One  thing  further  about  it ;  I  know  you  will  allow  me 
to  say,  that  same  evening  after  the  first  raptures  were 
over,  and  they  were  sitting  alone  around  the  table 
together,  both  smiled  sadly  as  they  said,  "  Poor  Tom, 
we  must  always  treat  him  kindly  ;  thank  God  no  other 
person  but  we  two  know  his  secret."  As  they  w^ere 
still  left  alone  for  considerable  time,  Mr.  Morton,  hav- 
ing stepped  into  the  library  for  a  while  to  enjoy  his 
cigar,  and  then  retired  ;  Will  and  Ida  having  gone  out 
to  see  Miss  Emma,  partly  from  sociability,  and  partly 
on  business,  and  Aunt  Mary  being  engaged  for  a  con- 
siderable time  in  the  dining-room,  they  continued 
without  interruption  in  their  ecstasy.  Blanch  was 
leaning  over  Walter's  arm  writing  playfully  her  name 
on  a  scrap  of  paper,  when  Walter  said,  "Why  do  you 
spell  your  name  without  the  final  e  ;  most  people  spell 
it  that  way." 

"  Don't  you  know  why  that  is  ?  " 

"No." 


468  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"Why,  because  ray  iiarae  is  to  have  just  as  many 
letters  in  it  as  yours  ;  look  here,  don't  you  see,"  as  she 
wrote  them  down,  Blanch,  Walter,  "  and  the  last  one  is 
the  same,  Graham  ;  don't  you  see  the  hand  of  God  is 
in  it,*'  she  said  bewitchingl}'. 

"Well  I  do  say,"  said  Walter,  "how  long  have  you 
been  thinking  of  that  ?  ' ' 

"Oh,  never  mind,  wait  till  I  show  you  something 
else  you  never  thought  of,"  and  she  wrote  down  on  the 
paper,  Blanch  Mortoyi,  Blanch  Graham;  "don't  you  see 
my  new  name  is  just  as  long  as  my  old  one,  and  just 
as  long  as  yours ;  each  contains  an  even  dozen  of  let- 
ters in  the  total,  and  each  an  even  half  dozen  in  each 
separate  name." 

"You  simple  girl,  if  some  other  fellow  had  come 
in  first  with  whom  that  coincident  had  happened, 
then  I  would  have  been  left." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  in  that  case  I  would  have  been  very  philo- 
sophical and  have  had  no  superstitions.  How  it 
pleases  us  to  be  superstitious  when  we  want  to  be; 
besides,  let  me  see  if  I  did  not  pass  a  name  of  the  same 
length" — Thomas  Swave. 

"No,"  said  Walter,  after  she  had  written  it  out,  "  it 
won't  quite  reach;  see,  you  are  a  little  superstitious, 
after  all."  "  Poor  Tom,"  said  Blanch,  "just  one  letter 
too  short,"  as  she  smiled  her  inimitable  smile,  and 
rising  to  her  feet,  at  the  same  time  saying,  "  Where  is 
that  little  scar  above  youx  eyebrow?"  And  turning 
his  head  toward  the  light,  so  she  could  see  it,  laid  her 
lips  upon  it,  whispering,  "Missionary  Ridge;"  then, 
raising  her  voice  a  little,  she  continued,  "  Did  you  ever 
see  me  looking  at  that  when  j-ou  were  not  looking.^  " 

"No;  I  never  saw  3'ou  looking  at  it,  when   I  was 


GETTYSBURG   OR   COLT)    HARBOR.  469 

not  looking,"  and  they  both  laughed  in  each  other's 
eyes,  Walter  saying,  "Here,  come,  we  must  behave 
ourselves;  Aunt  Mary  will  be  in  directly;  she  will 
Missionary  Ridge  us." 

"Oh,  I  don't  care  if  she  does  ;  I  am  going  to  tell  her 
and  father  everj'thing  in  the  morning,  anyhow." 

At  this  time  Aunt  Mary  did  pass  through  the  hall, 
but  it  was  a  very  slight  disturbance  she  made  of  this 
bliss.  She  simplj'  paused  at  the  door  and  said, ' '  Blanch, 
when  you  come  to  bed,  just  let  the  light  burn  low  in 
the  hall  for  Will  and  Ida  ;  the  dead-latch  is  all  right," 
and  she  passed  upstairs. 

In  the  morning  the  Morton  famil}^  were  about  ready 
to  be  seated  at  the  breakfast  table,  when  Blanch  came 
down,  a  little  late.  As  she  entered  the  room,  her 
father  looked  up  at  her  half  concerned,  half  humor 
ously,  and  wholly  in  kindness,  as  he  said,  "Well, 
Blanch,  who  is  ahead  this  morning,  Gettysburg  or 
Cold  Harbor?" 

Blanch  halted  for  a  second,  looked  at  him,  then 
rushed  into  his  arms,  saying,  "Cold  Harbor,  father;  it 
is  decided." 

He  clasped  her  to  his  bosom,  exclaiming,  "  I  am  so 
glad  you  have  chosen  well." 

"  I  told  you,  Edward,  I  thought  it  would  come  all 
right,"  said  Aunt  Mary. 

"  Hurrah  for  Cold  Harbor,"  said  Will.,  throwing  up 
his  hat. 

' '  Yes,  give  us  a  kiss  all  around  for  Cold  Harbor, ' ' 
said  Cousin  Ida.  "  Begin  wnth  j^our  father,"  who  was 
alread}^  taking  his. 


CHAPTER     XXVII. 

SUJ?  I  'E  )  -IXG  THE  EI  ELD. 

^nr^EN  3'ears  have  passed  away  since  the  night  we  left 
-*-  Walter  Graham  sitting  in  Mortons'  parlor  with 
Blanch.  They  have  been  ten  3'ears  of  arduous  labor, 
though  ten  years  replete  with  happiness.  Not  that  no 
single  shadow  has  fallen  on  his  lot  during  that  time  ; 
not  that  he  would  have  asked  for  that ;  but  that  in 
his  hours  of  relaxation  from  toil,  and  in  the  very  midst 
of  such  average  afflictions  and  disappointments  as  must 
befall  the  lot  of  everj'one,  he  always  enjoyed  that 
domestic  happiness,  that  full  confidence,  that  hallowed 
hour  with  wife  and  children  which  overtops  all  else. 

What  more  could  he  wish  for?  What  more  had  he  a 
right  to  ask  for  than  he  had  that  beautiful  evening  in 
the  early  December  of  I'^yy,  (for  remember  there 
are  beautiful  evenings  in  December),  as  he  peeped 
through  the  window  of  his  house  before  opening  the 
door  when  he  returned  wear>-  from  his  office,  to  behold 
w'hat  ?  To  behold  little  Florence  Graham,  with  her 
perfect  health,  and  whose  seven  summers  have  passed 
her  through  the  first  primary  at  the  public  school,  and 
now  showing  her  report,  for  the  month  of  November, 
in  the  next  class,  with  great  pride  to  her  mother  with 
one  hand,  while  she  squeezes  the  squeaks  out  of  her 
doll  with  the  other.  To  behold  Blanch,  as  she  says, 
"That  is  very  nice,  Flora.  Thank  God  you  have  not 
disgraced  the  name  of  j^our  grandmother  who  died  and 


SURVEYING  THE   EIELD.  471 

left  me  an  orphan  before  I  was  even  as  old  as  you  are 
now."  To  behold  Kdward  Morton  Graham,  whose 
five  years'  experience  of  life  have  taught  him  wonder- 
ful feats  in  horsemanship,  at  least  in  his  imagination, 
as  he  had  a  twine  tied  to  the  chairs  which  stand 
around  in  comfortable  disorder,  while  he  uses  his 
switch  on  their  backs  with  considerable  freedom,  as 
they  are  supposed  to  respond  to  the  names  of  Grand- 
pap's  old  lyucy  and  Simon.  Flora's  importunities  of 
"Oh,  mamma,  do  make  Eddie  be  quiet,"  receives 
no  further  recognition  than  a  smile  and  a  kiss,  while 
Blanch  bends  down  and  over  the  cradle  to  say  to  Jacob 
Graham,  Jr.,  "Oh,  you  darling  little  baby,  you  are  the 
nicest  little  six  months  old  boy  we  ever  saw,  aren't 
you  ?  Papa  will  be  home  directly,  see  if  he  is  not ; 
see  if  he  is  not."  While  little  three-year-old  Martha 
pulls  down  her  mother's  hair  in  her  effort  to  reach  over 
the  cradle  to  get  a  "  love  from  'ittle  buther,"  while 
Blanch  exclaims  with  that  gentle  voice  which  carries 
with  it  love  enough  for  all  the  family,  "  Mercy  days, 
Mattie  Graham,  don't  pull  mama's  head  off." 

Oh,  Blanch,  you  were  lovely  on  all  the  other  occa- 
sions on  which  we  have  beheld  you.  You  were  lovely 
on  the  3d  of  June,  nine  years  before,  when  5'ou  stood 
in  rich  but  unostentatious  bridal  robes  in  3'our  father's 
house  and  pledged  yourself  to  Walter  Graham.  But 
to-night,  in  your  own  home,  resting  on  your  bended 
knees  as  you  lean  over  that  cradle  and  its  precious  con- 
tents, with  half  dishevelled  hair,  while  the  little  brood 
of  little  Grahams  play  around  you,  you  are  thrice  lovely. 

As  Walter's  footsteps  are  in  the  hall,  and  you  raise 
your  face  and  hand  to  give  him  conjugal  welcome  to 
this  circle,  you  are  crowned  Queen  of  the  home. 


472  WALTER   GRAHAM,  STATESMAN. 

Mrs.  Lofty,  who  has  just  left  from  her  formal  call, 
has  no  conception  of  your  happiness.  You  would  not 
waste  3'our  time  explaining  to  her  why  you  allow  your 
children  such  liberties  in  your  parlor.  She  could  not 
understand  if  j'ou  would,  and  would  not  if  she  could. 
She  worships  at  the  shrine  of  fashion  ;  you  at  the  altar 
of  love.  Your  hero  husband,  at  whose  feet  you  bow, 
was  mighty  at  Shiloh,  at  Vicksburg,  at  the  Wilderness 
and  elsewhere,  but  you,  oh,  Blanch,  in  the  midst  of 
this  group  where  no  martial  sound  is  heard,  are 
mightier  than  he.  Walter's  studied  arguments  and 
forensic  powers  before  judges  and  juries  have  brought 
opinions  and  verdicts,  but  your  kiss  on  baby's  cheek  is 
eloquence  far  more  potent  than  his.  Do  you  stop  to 
think  even  now,  oh,  Blanch,  that  it  is  of  women  that 
heroes  are  born  ?  Are  you  conscious  of  the  fact  that 
the  light  which  radiates  now  from  your  maternal  eyes 
is  the  light  of  Heaven  ?  That  your  reciprocal  embrace 
of  wife  to  husband  is  the  act  of  God  ? 

Thus,  stood  Walter  Graham  in  his  own  house,  in 
Sharwood,  that  December  evening,  just  ten  years  from 
the  night  he  sat  in  Mr.  Morton's  parlor,  at  Mansdale, 
when  he.  and  Blanch  first  knew  that  all  things  had 
ended  right.  The  third  of  next  June  it  would  be  just 
ten  3'pars  since  he  was  married  ;  just  eleven  years  since 
he  was  admitted  to  the  Bar  ;  just  fourteen  years  since 
he  fell  at  Cold  Harbor.  Ah  !  what  an  eventful  daj^ 
was  the  third  of  June  to  him,  and  yet  he  had  rarely 
mentioned  these  coincidents  outside  of  his  own  family. 

His  ten  and  a-half-years  of  professional  life  had  of 
course  brought  him  some  new  acquaintances,  as  well  as 
the  success  which  his  energy,  his  unfailing  health,  his 
fixedness  of  purpose  and  natural  talents  had  so  justly 


SURVEYING   THE   FIELD.  473 

merited.  His  new  acquaintances  embraced  a  pretty 
considerable  range  of  character,  tastes,  talents  and 
social  standing.  As  a  matter  of  course,  he  first  took 
a  survey  of  the  members  of  his  own  profession,  as  he 
would  see  them  gather  in  the  bar  on  great  occasions. 
He  beheld,  of  course,  Messrs.  Athens,  Snyder  and 
Jones,  who  seemed  each  to  be  by  common  consent 
recognized  in  their  respective  spheres  of  strength  as 
the  heads  of  the  bar,  but  they  were  all  men  who  had 
reached  the  acme  of  their  fame,  and  had  passed  the 
prime  of  life.  When  his  thoughts  would  still  turn 
occasionalh'  to  his  political  aspirations,  it  was  not 
those  men  whom  he  considered  especially  in  his  way. 
He  saw  a  young  man  by  the  name  of  Baxter,  who  had 
come  to  the  bar  about  a  j-ear  before  himself,  who  had 
a  wonderfully  fertile  mind;  quick  at  invention  ;  could 
avail  himself  on  the  instant'  of  any  mistake  in  his 
adversary;  was  good  at  repartee  ;  earnest  in  his  manner 
and  full  of  intrigue.  In  addition  to  this,  he  had 
behind  him  a  large  and  influential  family  connection 
throughout  the  county  and  an  inordinate  ambition  for 
power. 

He  beheld  another  young  man  by  the  name  of 
Irwin,  who  had  preceded  him  some  three  years  to  the 
title  of  Esq.,  who  had  great  polish  and  urbanity  of 
manner.  He  came  from  a  wealthier  family  than  Bax- 
ter, and  was  considered  the  social  leader  of  the  bar  ; 
spared  nothing  at  his  entertainments,  "and  stood  in 
with  the  boys,"  as  they  termed  it.  His  natural  powers 
were  not  as  strong  as  Baxter's,  but  his  assurance  was 
quite  as  great,  his  manner  of  addressing  a  jury  quite  as 
pleasing,  and  his  conscience  even  a  little  more  lax. 
Like  Baxter,  his  ambition  for  fame  knew  no  bounds. 


474  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

He  was  already  chairman  of  the  Republican  County 
Committee.  He  and  Baxter  were  ostensibly  on  the 
most  intimate  terms,  but  Walter  alwaj-s  had  his  own 
private  opinion  of  their  real  friendship. 

Another  brother  of  the  profession  whose  form  would 
rise  up  before  Walter  when  his  eyes  turned  toward 
Washington,  was  Mr.  William  Carter.  Who  was  he  ? 
A  man  just  ten  j^ears  Walter's  senior  ;  had  been  a  mem- 
ber of  the  bar  twelve  years  in  advance  of  him.  Mr. 
Carter  had  come  from  the  plow,  from  poverty.  His 
father  had  died  when  he  had  just  passed  his  sixteenth 
year,  leaving  him  a  widowed  mother  and  an  estate  of 
two  hundred  dollars.  From  these  conditions.  Carter 
had  educated  himself,  equipped  himself  for  the  law, 
and  made  for  himself  an  honorable  distinction  in  his 
profession,  Though  he  had  been  but  six  weeks  in  the 
army  when  he  was  mustered  out  for  physical  disability, 
it  showed  his  heart  had  been  in  the  right  place.  It  was 
not  his  fault  that  he  was  stricken  with  typhoid  fever 
nigh  unto  death,  before  his  regiment  was  fairly  at  the 
front,  or  had  been  in  an  engagement.  It  was,  in  short, 
the  same  old  storj' — the  American  story — from  poverty 
to  success,  the  story  at  which  we  will,  all  of  us,  throw 
up  our  hats  and  cry  bravo,  to  this  day.  Mr.  Carter 
was,  besides,  the  very  soul  of  honor,  of  probity  ;  not 
a  stain  on  his  character,  not  a  single  assailable  spot  in 
his  private  life.  He  had  even  taken  a  slight  hand,  in 
his  early  days,  in  the  temperance  cause,  but  soon  gave 
himself  up  entirely  to  his  profession.  He  had  made 
his  way  to  the  front,  not  by  fawnings  and  favors,  but 
by  merit,  by  character.  He  was  a  scholar,  a  gentle- 
man. As  Walter  beheld  him  thus,  just  forty -five  years 
old,  in  the  very  prime  of  life,  and  squinting  his  eye,  like 


surve;ying  the  fie;i.d.  475 

the  rest  of  them,  sometimes  toward  Washington,  he 
felt,  "  I  may,  possibly,  have  to  wait  for  Carter." 

Carter  seemed  at  first  blush  to  be  such  an  embodi- 
ment of  the  successful  candidate,  that  one  had  to  look 
well  around  him  to  see  the  weak  points  in  his  com- 
position. A  closer  inspection  led  astute  obser- 
vers sometimes  to  imagine  they  saw  it.  While 
Carter  posesses  all  these  elements,  they  thought  he  is 
not  after  all,  what  w^e  term  a  man  of  the  people. 
He  is  a  little  too  dignified  in  his  bearing.  The  people 
who  know  him  best  say  they  never  get  much  closer  to 
him  than  they  were  at  first.  While  he  is  honorable 
and  upright,  he  is  not  warm,  or  rather  does  not  know 
always  how  to  bend  enough  to  the  common  people. 
Those  who  know  him  but  casually  are  the  ones  with 
whom  he  is  the  strongest.  While  he  is  a  nice  florid 
speaker  and  a  man  of  far  more  than  ordinary  ability, 
he  sometimes  impresses  his  audience  that  he  is  thinking 
rather  more  of  himself  than  of  his  subject ;  a  little  dis- 
posed sometimes  to  turn  a  small  occasion  into  a  great 
one.  Thus  it  was  that  Walter  .sometimes  imagined  that 
while  Carter  was  strong  in  his  way,  and  richly  deserved 
the  success  he  had  attained  as  a  lawyer,  it  was  possible 
after  all  that  somebody  else  might  get  a  little  closer  to 
the  hearts  of  the  American  people  in  that  great  lev- 
elling process  which  we  call  a  political  campaign. 

Another  brother  of  the  legal  fraternity  with  whom 
he  became  rather  intimate  was  Mr.  Boyd,  a  man  within 
six  months  of  his  own  age,  and  admitted  to  the  bar  the 
same  year.  Boyd  was  a  young  man  of  good  natural 
talent  and  had  a  collegiate  education.  He  possessed  a 
good  legal  mind,  was  a  lawyer  by  nature,  having  per- 
haps a  sharper  legal  acumen  than  any  of  the  others 


476  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

mentioned.  He  made  no  pretentions  whatever  to  any 
oratical  powers,  being  defective  in  that  direction,  even  as 
to  his  voice.  His  aspirations  turned  naturally  toward 
the  bench  and  not  to  Congress.  His  mind  was  practi- 
cal as  well  as  logical,  and  he  had  a  way  like  Walter 
him.self  of  getting  pretty  close  to  the  common  folk,  with- 
out lowering  his  professional  bearing.  Whether  he 
would  have  stretched  a  trifle  further  on  questions  of 
morals  than  Walter  we  will  not  for  the  present  decide. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  it  is  not  beyond  comprehension  how 
they  two  became,  as  already  stated,  rather  intimate. 

The.se  brief  portraits  of  some  of  the  members  of  the 
Sharwood  bar  would  not  be  entirely  complete  for  the 
purposes  of  this  narrative,  without  giving  you  still 
another.  Not  that  the  one  now  about  to  be  mentioned 
was  ever  likely  to  rise  up  and  confront  Walter  Graham 
as  a  candidate  for  Congress,  or  that  any  one  would 
even  associate  his  name  in  connection  with  that  office, 
but  for  purposes  which  must  be  left  to  make  themselves 
manifest,  or  perhaps  because  he  may  be  a  profitable 
subject  for  the  study  of  those  who  make  a  shidy  of  our 
American  .system  of  politics.  His  name  was  Albert 
Frederick  Edward  Bird.  His  usual  form  of  signing 
his  name,  however,  was  simply  A.  F.  Bird,  the  Edward 
havirg  become  entirely  obsolete,  and  it  sometimes 
appeared  in  the  public  prints  as  simply  "  Bird  of  the 
Third  ward,"  or  .sometimes,  "  I^ittle  Boss  Bird."  The 
"  little  "  was  naturally  enough  prefixed  to  his  name, 
when  you  came  to  understand  that  he  weighed  only 
one  hundred  and  seventeen  pounds,  and  measured  only 
five  feet,  four  inches  from  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the 
soles  of  his  feet. 

]\Ir.  Bird,  though  belonging  to  a  respectable  family 


SURVEYING   THE    FIELD.  477 

of  German  extraction,  never  made  any  pretences  of 
putting  on  any  professional  airs  or  in  any  way  trying 
to  wound  the  feelings  of  the  common  people.  True, 
the  common  people  never  trusted  him  in  court  alone 
with  any  very  great  matter,  but  still  he  instinctively 
understood  that  it  was  through  them  he  would  make 
his  principal  gains.  The  common  people  instinctively 
understood  that  they  were  at  liberty  to  pervert  his 
name  from  Bird  to  Birdie,  and  prefix  simply  the  word 
Little,  omitting  the  Boss,  which  left  him  the  short  and 
easy  appellation  of  Z,/V//d'  Birdie,  by  which  name  he 
came  to  be  generally  known  about  the  Court  House, 
and  through  the  political  circles  of  the  city,  even  that 
title  being  frequently  shortened  to  the  single  word, 
'  'Birdie. ' ' 

Little  Birdie,  although  four  years  younger  than  Wal- 
ter, was  a  veteran  of  the  war  and  had  been  admitted  to 
the  bar  only  one  year  later  than  himself.  And  be  it 
remembered.  Birdie's  soldier  record  was  not  to  be 
despised.  He  had  not  been  a  mere  gala  day  soldier  ; 
he  had  been  through  the  four  years  of  the  contest ; 
he  had  enlisted  as  a  bugler  boy  in  a  cavalry  regiment 
in  the  summer  of  1861  at  the  age  of  14,  and  never  saw 
the  smoke  of  his  father's  chimney,  except  when  home 
on  veteran  furlough,  until  July,  1865.  His  regiment  had 
as  proud  a  record  as  he  could  have  wished,  and  Birdie 
had  his  own  horse  shot  from  under  him  on?  dark  night, 
while  they  were  crossing  the  mountains  in  Tennessee, 
whereupon  he  became  lost  and  starved  in  the  wilder- 
ness for  three  days.  That  Birdie  had  never  been  shot 
himself,  some  said  was  owing  to  the  fact  that  he  was 
so  small  the  bullets  could  not  hit  him,  and  others, 
that  it  was  because,  when  they  were  flying  thickest,  he 


478  WAI.KR   GRAHAM,  'sTAESMAN. 

could  hide  himself  under  his  horse's  mane  or  behind 
the  horn  of  his  saddle.  At  all  events,  he  could  oflFer 
himself  as  a  living  example  of  a  souvenir  of  Anderson- 
ville,  for  he  had  spent  two  months  there,  as  a  prisoner 
of  war,  and  wonderful  were  the  events  he  told  thereof. 

He  had  been  in  Sherman's  march  from  Atlanta  to 
the  sea,  and  had  his  second  horse  shot  from  under  him 
in  a  severe  skirmish  in  North  Carolina,  while  his  regi- 
ment was  leading  Kilpatrick's  cavalry,  only  three 
days  before  Johnson's  surrender.  Little  Birdie  had 
even  passed  through  college  after  his  return  from  the 
army,  but  his  rank  as  a  lawyer  need  not  be  discussed 
now,  inasmuch  as  he  made  no  pretense  to  be  a  hard 
student,  or  a  man  of  wide  literary  culture.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  it  would  be  an  error  to  suppose  that  Birdie 
had  no  clients,  for  he  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
boys,  and  had  a  remarkable  faculty  of  picking  up  con- 
tingent cases,  into  which  he  took  some  other  lawyer  as 
a  partner,  and  thereby  bestowed  upon  the  other  law- 
yer, as  he  considered  it  a  great  favor. 

Birdie  also  knew  a  large  number  of  hotel  keepers 
over  the  city  and  county  whose  licenses  he  annually 
procured,  and  some  people  even  went  so  far  as  to  say 
that  he  made  divorce  cases  a  specialty.  Thus  stood 
Little  Birdie  in  his  legal  and  other  capacities,  but  it 
was  as  a  local  statesman,  a  manipulator  of  politics,  a 
manager  of  tTie  aflfairs  of  the  Third  Ward  of  Sharwood, 
that  he  rose  to  the  full  majesty  of  his  power.  But  Bir- 
die did  not  exercise  that  power  in  a  tyrannical  manner; 
he  had  too  much  tact  for  that,  some  said  too  much 
craft,  for  whatever  else  might  be  said  of  his  mental 
powers,  they  were  not  defective  in  those  directions. 
Birdie  understood  very    thoroughly    that   there  were 


SURVEYING   THE    FIELD.  479 

about  three  hundred  voters  in  the  Third  Ward  who 
would  accept  no  assistance  whatever  from  him  in  fix- 
ing their  tickets  on  election  day. 

He  was  perfectly  willing  to  call  these  three  hundred 
people  the  "respectable  woters,"  or  the  "intelligent 
woters"  or  the  "  solid  woters,"  whom  he  knew  he  dare 
not  approach.  But  he  also  understood  equally  well 
that  these  three  hundred  voters  were  generally  about 
equally  divided  as  to  men  at  primary  elections.  Hence 
he  knew  that  if  he  had  the  other  one  hundred  voters  ot 
the  ward  carefully  formed  into  a  permanent  club, 
pledged  to  vote  always  one  way,  solid,  he  would  in  all 
probability  generally  hold  the  balance  of  power  in  his 
hands  and  generalh^  turn  the  ward  over  to  any  candi- 
date at  a  primary  election  for  whom  he  chose  to  go, 
especially  if  he  concealed  his  purpose  thoroughly  as  to 
whom  he  actually  was  for  until  just  after  the  polls 
opened,  so  that  the  three  hundred  "  solid  woters" 
could  not  organize  solidly  against  him,  even  if  they 
were  disposed  to  do  so  at  that  late  hour. 

Of  course,  these  one  hundred  men  who  constituted 
Birdie's  club;  the  hands  at  the  iron  works,  and  the 
boys  generally  who  stood  solidly  with  him,  were  sup- 
posed to  have  some  consideration  for  it,  and,  of  course. 
Birdie  gave  it  to  them.  He  did  not  purchase  them 
outright  with  money.  Ah,  no  !  Birdie  was  too  smart 
for  that.  He  was  well  up  on  the  election  and  bribery 
laws.  He  knew  perfectly  well  the  distinction  between 
legitimate  campaign  expenses  and  bribery.  Hence 
these  men  must  all  be  paid  a  liberal  day's  wages  for 
services  they  rendered  him  in  helping  to  get  up  his 
poll  book,  in  distributing  tickets  under  each  citizen's 
door  the  night  before  the  election   and  divers  other 


480  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

necessary  expenses,  and  then  last,  but  not  least,  one  in 
every  five  of  them  must  do  something  for  the  con- 
stableship,  the  assessorship,  or  letter-carriership,  which 
he  would  get  for  them  in  due  time. 

Neither  was  Birdie  ever  charged  with  spending  these 
legitimate  expenses  out  of  his  own  pocket.  He  was 
reputed,  indeed,  to  be  a  very  good  financier.  Of 
course,  it  was  generally  inferred  that  he  got  this  money 
from  the  candidates  whom  he  favored,  and  it  was  also 
supposed  that  he  generally  favored  the  candidates  with 
whom  he  could  make  the  best  deal.  But  it  would  be 
doing  Birdie  great  injustice  to  suppose  he  had  no 
natural  preferences  of  his  own,  and  that  he  did  not,  at 
least,  give  such  candidates  the  first  opportunity  to  deal 
with  him.  It  would  be  doing  him  a  still  greater  injus- 
tice to  charge  him  with  not  always  trying,  at  least,  to 
deliver  his  goods  after  he  had  contracted  to,  /cr  Jinfaith- 
f  Illness  to  ti'usts,  lie  said,  lie  had  discovered,  was  the  secret 
of  the  zveakness  of  so  many  other  ivard  workers. 

The  greatest  problem  about  Birdie,  as  already  inti- 
mated, was  to  know  up  to  the  very  day  of  the  election 
which  fellow  he  was  actually  for.  But  there  were 
always  a  few  men  who  enjoyed  his  entire  confidence, 
and  generally  knew  in  advance  to  whom  the  ward  was 
to  be  delivered,  of  whom  Boyd  was  always  one. 

Thus  it  was  that  Little  Birdie  would  frequently  drop 
into  Walter's  office  as  late  as 'nine  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ings, when  he  would  be  buried  in  study,  and  com- 
mence conversation  in  a  very  cordial  and  easy  manner, 
saying  that  he  had  had  such  a  headache  all  day  that  he 
had  not  had  time  to  think  about  a  certain  case  that  he 
had  on  his  hands,  "in  fact,  if  you  will  examine  the 
law  a  little  in  that  matter  I  will  take  you  in  with  me." 


SURVEYING  THE   FIELD.  481 

He  would  then  branch  off  in  a  very  easy  manner 
about  his  army  experiences,  which  he  supposed,  of 
course,  was  the  proper  road  to  Walter's  favors,  and  it 
must  be  admitted  that  Birdie  did  have  quite  an  admira- 
tion for  Walter,  and  that  Walter  in  turn  would  give 
back  to  Birdie  a  certain  fraternity  of  feeling  under- 
stood only  between  survivors  of  the  war.  In  short, 
they  became,  in  the  course  of  time,  quite  good  friends. 

Other  new  acquaintances  were  made,  of  course,  by 
Walter  during  these  years  among  people  of  other  voca- 
tions, the  farmers  of  the  county,  the  merchants  and 
tradesmen  of  the  city.  He  had  also  made  some  reputa- 
tion for  himself  among  the  teachers  and  friends  of 
education,  in  which  cause  he  took  considerable  inter- 
est. The  superintendent  of  the  schools  and  the  prin- 
cipal of  the  high  school  had  come  to  know  him  favor- 
ably, and  Rev.  Mr.  Barnes,  pastor  of  a  little  Sweden- 
borgian  congregation  in  the  city,  a  man  of  very  fine 
qualities  of  heart  and  mind,  a  thorough  scholar,  with 
a  wide  range  of  literary  knowledge,  and  with  far  more 
than  the  ordinary  amount  of  liberality  and  Christianity 
in  his  theology,  had  become  one  of  his  particular 
friends.  In  fact,  though  not  formerly'  of  that  denomi- 
nation, it  became  noticeable  that  Walter  and  Blanch 
had  acquired  the  habit  of  going  to  his  church  more 
than  to  any  other. 

Another  acquaintance  of  Walter's  by  this  time  was 
Captain  Sneath.  He  was,  in  fact,  among  the  first  he 
made  after  his  residence  in  Sharwood,  as  the  Captain 
kept  the  hotel  at  which  he  boarded  while  he  was 
single,  and  which  seemed  to  be  one  of  the  headquarters 
for  the  county  politicians  when  they  would  come  to 
town.     The  Captain  was  hail  fellow  well  met,  wuth  a 

21 


482  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

tall,  state!}'  appearance  ;  his  face  always  clean  shaven, 
and  adhered  rigidlj'  to  his  rule  of  never  taking  a  drink 
at  his  own  bar.  He  was  a  veteran  of  the  civil  war, 
with  a  splendid  record.  He  had  been  through  the 
principal  campaigns  of  the  Shenandoah,  had  been 
wounded  at  Gettysburg,  and  followed  the  fortunes  of 
the  army  of  the  Potomac  from  that  time  until  he  w^as 
again  wounded  at  the  assault  on  Petersburg  so  badly 
that  it  ended  his  .soldier  career.  The  Captain  hailed 
from  one  of  the  principal  Republican  districts  of  the 
north  of  the  county,  was  already  recorder  of  deeds, 
and  quite  a  considerable  contingent  to  either  political 
ring  of  the  county  to  which  he  chose  to  attach  himself. 

These  rings,  which  were  composed  of  divers  local 
political  leaders,  formed  into  an  organization  under  one 
head,  constituted  the  powers  that  have  already  been 
touched  upon  in  the  twenty-first  chapter.  They  make 
up  what  has  come  to  be  pretty  well  understood  in  this 
day  as  the  boss  system  in  our  politics.  The  parties 
wdio  constitute  these  rings,  conscious  of  the  force 
there  is  .sometimes  in  a  name,  are  apt  to  speak  of 
them  as  combinations.  But  there  w'ere  some  very  per- 
verse and  sarcastic  people  of  Jefierson  county  who 
refused  to  dignify  them  by  these  appellations,  and  who 
alw^ays  would  speak  of  them  as  rings  and  their  leaders 
as  bosses. 

As  there  were  always  two  rival  rings  in  the  Repub- 
lican part}'  of  Jefierson  county,  it  became  necessary  for 
them  to  have  .some  ear-marks  by  which  they  could  be 
di.stinguished.  Here,  again,  the  stupid  and  unappre- 
ciative  people  had  no  more  conception  of  the  grand 
than  to  designate  them  by  the  respective  terms  of 
"Rotten  Potatoes  Ring"  and  "Spoiled  Pork  Ring." 


SURVEYING  THE    FIELD.  483 

How  these  two  edifying  names  came  to  be  so  generally 
applied  to  these  two  organizations  was  sometimes  a 
matter  of  inquiry,  but  the  most  reliable  information 
that  could  be  gathered  on  the  subject  was  as  follows: 
Some  years  previous,  one  Potewright,  who  was  inter- 
ested in  the  wholesale  grocery  and  provision  busi- 
ness and  was  boss  of  one  of  the  rings,  had  control  of  a 
majority  of  the  prison  inspectors  and  directors  of  the 
poor.  It  so  happened  that,  during  this  time,  the 
Sharwood  Mercury,  already  mentioned,  being  the  Re- 
publican organ  of  the  count)^  which  generally  operated 
with  the  other  ring,  came  out  with  some  damaging  expo- 
sures, to  wit:  That  Potewright  had  been  making  large 
profits  out  of  various  articles  of  provisions  he  had  been 
furnishing  these  institutions  at  exorbitant  prices,  the 
inspectors  and  directors  of  which,  the  Mercury  further 
alleged,  were  well  known  to  be  merely  the  creatures  of 
Potewright  and  obliged  to  do  his  bidding.  One  most 
notable  instance  of  this  kind  was  singled  out,  of  a 
large  quantity  of  half  rotten  potatoes  which  were 
turned  in  by  Potewright  to  fill  a  contract,  over  one-half 
of  which  thej'  were  able  to  prove  were  thrown  out  by 
the  stewards  as  unfit  for  use.  This  particular  instance 
became  the  target  at  which  the  principal  invectives  of 
the  people  and  the  press  were  generally  hurled,  and 
with  wonderful  appropriateness,  it  was  alleged,  the 
expression  soon  became  familiar  on  the  street,  the 
"Rotten  Potatoes  Ring." 

The  origin  of  the  other  phrase  was  said  to  be  exactly 
similar.  That  only  two  years  later  one  Swinegate, 
interested  in  the  pork  business,  and  leader  of  the  other 
ring,  had  control  of  these  institutions,  and  that  in  due 
time  the  Sharwood  Herald,  heretofore  mentioned,  and 


484  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

the  organ  of  the  other  ring,  brought  charges  of 
the  very  same  character  against  Swinegate,  in  refer- 
ence to  spoiled  pork.  Hence  the  two  names,  "Rotten 
Potatoes  Ring"  and  "Spoiled  Pork  Ring." 

Even  these  two  phrases,  in  course  of  time,  came  to  be 
shortened  in  common  parlance  to  the  simple  expletives, 
"  Potatoes  "  and  "  Pork."  Indeed,  it  was  not  uncom- 
mon to  hear  politicians  and  candidates  for  office,  when 
talking  to  each  other  ask,  "  Which  ring  do  you  expect 
to  support  you.  Potatoes  or  Pork  ?" 

It  was  during  the  time  Walter  boarded  with  the  Cap- 
tain that  he  first  saw  occasional  glimpses  of  the  respec- 
tive leaders  of  these  two  rings.  They  would  sometimes 
drop  in  late  in  the  evening  for  a  few  minutes,  talk  con- 
fidentially for  a  short  time  to  some  stranger,  or  per- 
haps call  the  Captain  aside  for  a  brief  conference. 
Sometimes,  in  the  height  of  a  primary  campaign,  he 
had  observed  one  of  them  to  come  in  daylight,  and 
without  any  commotion  pass  upstairs,  followed  by  a 
few  other  gentlemen. 

Neither  of  these  leaders  were  much  given  to  talk 
themselves,  but  the  lines  of  their  countenances  indi- 
cated that  the}'  were  not  living  without  thought. 
Although  Walter  had  been  introduced  to  each  of  these 
men  b}^  the  Captain,  his  acquaintance  had  never  got 
much  beyond  a  mere  formal  "  How  do  3'ou  do  sir?" 
What  little  he  saw  of  them  led  him  to  think  that  while 
they  were  both  ostensibly  interested  in  private  busi- 
ness, the}'  left  the  principal  part  of  its  detail  to  their 
partners.  He  also  suspected  sometimes  that  they  each 
had  some  other  more  private  place  where  they  received 
their  friends. 

Though  Walter  had  never  seen  anything  especially 


surve;ying  the  field.  485 

reprehensible  in  the  conduct  of  either  Mr.  Potewright 
or  Mr.  Swinegate,  he  occasionally  heard  their  names 
mentioned,  as  he  passed  a  saloon  after  night,  by  lewd 
fellows  of  the  baser  sort,  in  the  most  unchaste  and  vulgar 
manner.  As  his  thoughts  began  to  turn  more  seri- 
ously toward  Congress,  and  he  would  take  retrospects 
in  his  mind  as  to  what  he  had  seen  of  practical  politics 
in  Jefferson  county,  he  would  wonder  to  what  extent 
the  road  to  a  seat  in  the  National  House  of  Represen- 
tatives did  lie  through  these  rings,  and  by  the  gracious 
favors  of  these  ring-masters. 

He  wondered  if  their  powers  were  magnified  or 
whether  they  were  really  greater  than  supposed?  And 
was  it  true  that  even  the  press  was  more  or  less  sub- 
servient to  them,  for  he  could  not  help  noticing  what  a 
singular  coincident  it  was  that  the  Herald  generally 
favored  the  candidates  of  the  one,  and  the  Mercury 
those  of  the  other  ring,  though  both  journals  posed 
before  the  people  as  reformers  and  in  favor  of  honest 
politics.  Or  might  it  be,  he  thought  sometimes,  that 
both  these  rings  and  the  papers  endeavored  to  board 
the  train  which  they  thought  was  the  winning  one, 
that  they  might  thereby  be  more  likely  to  get  an  occa- 
sional sheriff  and  prison  board  on  the  same  car  with 
them.  At  all  events,  he  was  a  firm  believer  in  the 
people.  He  was  willing  to  trust,  like  Abraham  I^in- 
coln,  to  their  instincts.  He  still  had  faith  in  Repub- 
lican government. 

As  he  looked  farther  over  the  situation  he  saw,  what? 
That  his  congressional  district  was  composed  of  Jeffer- 
son and  Franklin  counties.  That  their  present  repre- 
sentative was  Mr.  Carpenter,  of  Franklin  county, 
which  was  much  the  smaller  of  the  two.     That  Mr. 


486  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Carpenter  was  a  man  pretty  well  advanced  in  life,  with 
nothing  more  than  medium  powers,  who  had  represented 
the  district  for  three  terms,  and  had  gained  no  special 
distinction  for  himself  during  that  time.  That  the 
next  candidate  would,  in  all  probability,  come  from 
Jefferson  county,  and  that  there  was  already  consider- 
able undertow  in  public  sentiment,  which  was  begin- 
ning to  say,  "It  is  time  we  ignore  this  rule  of  rotating 
anyhow.  We  should  elect  some  young  man  with  at 
least  fair  ability,  in  the  prime  of  life,  to  Congress,  and 
keep  him  there  until  he  acquires  some  influence."  He 
thought  it  probable  that  the  politicians  and  ring-mas- 
ters might  take  that  sentiment  into  consideration 
when  the}'  commenced  to  groom  their  candidates  for 
the  coming  race  the  next  summer  ;  but  were  there  not 
other  young  aspirants  for  the  honor  who  seemed  to 
come  pretty  well  up  to  these  conditions,  and  who  stood 
much  closer  in  sympathy  and  feeling  to  the  bosses 
than  he  ? 

Would  they  not  look  well  around  them  before  they 
laid  their  brushes  on  him  ?  And  what  qualities  have  I, 
he  thought,  that  will  give  me  a  fighting  chance  to 
come  in  under  the  wire  a  neck  ahead  in  spite  of  them  ? 

Thus  stood  the  situation  in  Jefferson  county,  and 
thus  cogitated  Walter  Graham  that  December  night, 
in  1877,  when  in  the  thirty-fifth  year  of  his  age  he 
went  home  so  happy  to  his  happy  family. 

Thus  it  was  that,  after  tea  being  over,  he  said,  "  Well, 
Blanch,  how  nearly  has  the  time  arrived  when  I  should 
begin  to  think  seriously  about  going  to  Congress  ? ' ' 

"  Well,  I  do  not  know  ;  how  nearly  do  you  think  it 
is  here  ? ' ' 

' '  I  believe  I  should  make  the  break  next  spring. ' ' 


SURVEYING   THE   FIELD.  487 

' '  I  believe  your  purpose  has  been  quickened  ever 
since  you  were  in  Washington  last  winter  and  heard 
Senator  Morton  make  his  speech  on  the  electoral 
commission." 

"  Well,  you  know  the  name  of  Morton  always  had 
a  magnetism  in  it  for  me." 

"Yes,  it  must  be  a  great  stock.  I  wonder  if  the 
senator  was  any  relation  to  our  family. ' ' 

"Well,  he  certainly  is  a  great  man  ;  you  could  not 
but  be  impressed  with  that  fact  when  you  consider 
the  circumstances  of  the  case,  that  there  stood  all  the 
great  leaders  of  the  Senate,  Edmunds,  Conkling,  Blaine, 
Bayard  and  Thurman,  paying  obeisance  to  him,  and 
half  in  terror  of  a  man  who  could  not  stand  on  his 
feet."* 

"Well,  Walter,  to  be  serious,  you  know  I  always 
have  been  content,  and  really  could  be  quite  as  happy 
to  live  on  here  in  our  quiet  way  all  my  life,  but  I  am 
not  going  to  be  the  cause  of  preventing  you  from  hav- 
ing an  opportunity  to  carry  out  the  natural  bent  of 
5'our  mind,  and  which,  I  suppose,  God  would  not  have 
given  you  if  not  for  some  purpose." 

"That  is,  you  mean  to  say  that  if  you  plant  an 
acorn  on  a  mountain  side  it  is  hardly  right  to  try  to 
graft  a  chestnut  on  it." 

"  No,  or  if  you  hatch  an  eagle's  egg  under  a  hen 
you  may  still  expect  the  eagle  to  fly  in  due  time  for  the 
mountain." 

"Just  so  ;  then  you  think  further,  that  if  the  young 
eagle  tries  to  take  his  first  flight  next  summer  you 
have  no  objections." 


*Senator  Morton's  speech  ou  the  electoral  commission  bill  was  delivered 
in  a  sitting  posture. 


488  WALTER  GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"  Exactly,  and  I  will  even  give  him  my  moral  sup- 
port, and  do  what  I  can  to  see  that  he  alights  right, 
that  he  reaches  the  top  of  the  mountain  Yes,  Walter, 
if  you  do  go  into  it  make  it  a  success.  Of  course,  I  do 
not  want  to  see  you  do  anything  dishonorable  or  wrong 
to  succeed,  which  I  know,  of  course,  you  will  not,  but 
I  do  want  you  to  beat  either  Baxter,  Irivi^i  or  Carter. 
You  know  yoic  are  smarter  tJian  any  of  them.'' 

Thus  went  Walter  Graham  and  Blanch  to  bed  that 
night,  after  his  ten  j-ears  of  honest  labor  and  merited 
success. 

Meanwhile,  Tom  Swave  had  been  to  the  West  and 
was  back  again. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

cur.rn'ATi.xG  the  field. 

TF  any  passer-by  on  Court  Avenue,  in  the  city 
-^  of  Sharwood,  on  the  night  of  May  i,  1878,  had 
stopped  in  front  of  a  certain  attorney's  office,  about 
half-past  nine  o'clock,  he  might  have  seen,  underneath 
the  drawn  curtains,  and  by  the  faint  flicker  through  the 
transom  above  the  door,  that  the  light  was  burning  low 
in  the  front  office.  Had  he  supposed  that  the  occupant 
had  stepped  out  transiently,  locking  the  door  behind 
him,  he  could  have  easily  undeceived  himself  by  turn- 
ing the  knob.  Had  he  jumped  over  the  fence,  at  the 
side,  into  Mrs.  Lutz's  back  yard,  and  looked  beneath 
the  half-lowered  curtain,  at  the  back  window,  he  could 
have  seen  the  light  burning  at  full  blaze  in  the  back 
office,  where  two  men  were  sitting  talking  to  each 
other  in  a  confidential  manner. 

These  two  men  were  Tom  Swave  and  Daniel  Web- 
ster Boyd,  the  latter  being  one  of  the  attorneys  men- 
tioned in  the  previous  chapter.  It  was  Mr.  Boyd's 
office  in  which  they  were  sitting,  and  the  way  Tom 
Swave  came  to  be  there  was,  briefl}',  as  follows :  he 
had  gone  out  West  on  the  occasion  on  which,  the 
reader  will  remember,  he  wrote  Walter  Graham  the 
letter  saying  he  would.  He  had  spent  something  over 
four  years  on  the  sunset  side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
having  gone  over  them  on  the  first  train  of  the  Union 
and  Central  Pacific  Railroads  that  crossed  them. 

Having  witnessed  the  ceremonies  of  the  joining  of 


490  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

those  two  ends  which  they  welded  together  with  a 
golden  nail,  his  meanderings  took  him  over  various 
sections  of  the  great  Pacific  Slope.  Watching  at  times 
the  placid  waters  of  the  great  ocean,  resting  against 
her  oak-bound  shore  ;  stopping  long  enough  at  one 
town  to  study  law  and  be  admitted  to  the  bar  ;  keep- 
ing up  his  resolution  to  keep  the  great  mountains 
between  him  and  his  former  associations,  until  it  came 
to  pass  that  he  found  himself  suffering  in  a  hospital  at 
Sacramento  from  a  breaking  out  of  an  alarming  and 
painful  symptom  of  his  old  wound. 

Broken  in  spirit,  and  without  money,  in  a  strange 
land  without  friends,  and  the  word  just  arrived  that  his 
father  would  probably  not  survive  many  months,  he 
naturally,  upon  his  first  convalescence,  made  known  his 
situation  to  Walter  Graham.  He  received  a  prompt 
reply,  containing  a  certified  check  for  a  sufficient 
amount  to  bring  him  home,  with  the  single  command 
in  it  "  come  homey 

These  words  fell  upon  his  ear  like  the  voice  of  the 
good  Samaritan,  and  he  came  home.  He  got  home  in 
time  to  see  his  father  before  he  died.  He  recovered  in 
time  his  former  health.  Walter  had  him  admitted  to 
the  Sharwood  bar.  and  afterwards  made  editor  of  the 
Sharwood  Press,  a  weekly  journal  published  in  the 
city,  which  he,  with  a  few  others,  had  been  instru- 
mental in  starting,  though  he  had  no  interest  in  it  for 
the  last  two  years. 

Tom  held  this  position  as  editor  of  the  P)'ess  on  the 
evening  now  in  question,  to  wit,  the  first  of  May,  1878. 
Though  no  traces  of  dejection  or  a  broken  heart  were 
on  his  countenance  that  night,  on  account  of  the  event 
which  had  sent  him  West  ten  years  before,  his  brows 


CULTIVATING  THE   FIELD.  491 

were  drawn,  and  his  thoughts  diving  deep  into  the 
darkness  of  uncertain  contingencies  in  search  of  a 
plan  by  which  he  could  have  Walter  Graham  nomi- 
nated for  Congress  at  the  coming  convention.  He 
knew  Boyd  was  a  man  of  good  judgment,  and  he  w^as 
anxious  to  hear  his  opinion  of  the  situation,  and  take 
counsel  with  him.  But  he  knew  very  well  that  he 
himself  had  a  more  real  heartfelt  interest  in  it  than 
any  other  man,  and  he  knew  also  that  Walter  would 
still  give  him  his  entire  confidence,  and  he  remembered 
further  that  he  had  said  to  him  in  one  of  their  talks, 
"  I  guess  it  will  fall  on  you,  Tom,  to  give  it  the  brain 
charge. ' ' 

The  curls  of  smoke  w^ere  ascending  from  the  cigars 
of  each  of  these  men,  now  so  completely  absorbed  in 
their  subject,  when  Boyd  drew  his  from  his  mouth, 
knocked  the  ashes  from  its  end  with  the  tip  of  his 
little  finger,  and  said,  "  Well,  5^ou  ask  me  how  I  view 
the  situation  as  it  stands  to-day,  and  you  are  here  on 
the  assumption  that  I  am  friendly  to  Graham,  in  which 
you  are  correct ;  but  you  know  in  politics  we  don't 
always  stick  to  our  first  preferences  when  some  other 
paramount  object  is  to  be  accomplished  ;  of  course  you 
understand  all  that  ;  but  remember,  I  don't  say  that 
Graham  may  not  be  the  instrument  bj-  which  we  can 
best  accomplish  the  object  I  have  in  view.  I  hope  he 
ma}'  be  ;  but  3-ou  see  a  man  must  be  cautious.  You 
see,  if  we  confine  ourselves  only  to  what  we  know  at 
present,  it  is  simply  this,  that  there  will  be  the  four 
candidates, — Baxter,  Irw'in,  Carter,  and  Graham." 

"Just  so,"  replied  Tom,  "  and  out  of  those  you  wish 
to  know  which  one  will  be  most  beneficial  to  3'our 
chances  for  the  bench,  five  j^ears  hence." 


492  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"Yes,  that  might  be  said  to  be  it,  or  which  is  the 
best  man  with  which  to  beat  Baxter?"  replied  Boyd. 

"  Will  he  be  harder  to  beat  than  Irwin  ?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  believe  the  Potato  Ring  will  stick  to  him 
solid,  while  the  indications  are  that  the  Pork  Ring  will 
be  a  little  disorganized.  There  are  some  important 
factors  in  it  that  may  fly  off,  and  besides,  if  your  own 
premonitions  are  correct,  that  the  Mercury  may  support 
Carter,  that  leaves  them  without  an  organ,  while  you 
may  bet  3'our  last  dollar  the  Herald  will  pull  with  the 
Potatoes. ' ' 

"  Ma}^  not  Graham  be  the  beneficiary-  of  an}'  demor^ 
alization  that  may  exist  in  the  Pork  Ring?"  asked 
Tom. 

"  Not  as  much  so  as  Carter,"  replied  Boyd  ;  "  if  the 
Mercury  should  be  for  him,  you  see  Carter  and  Graham 
will  naturally  divide  the  independent  voters  anyhow, 
and  if  the  Mercury  should  come  out  square  for  Carter, 
I  am  afraid  it  might  make  him  the  stronger  of  the  two, 
unless  you  can  do  more  for  Graliam  in  your  weekly 
than  I  think  you  can  ;  and  you  see,  with  our  forces 
divided,  it  gives  either  one  of  the  rings,  when  united, 
the  advantage." 

"  I  infer  then,  that  you  think  Carter  may  possibly  be 
the  man  Graham  has  to  beat." 

"Yes,  that  thought  has  occurred  to  me,  nor  do  I 
overlook  the  fact  that  it  may  be  Irwin.  You  see  the 
truth  is,  that  when  the  Pork  Ring  is  thoroughly 
united  they  are  generally  a  little  the  stronger  of  the 
two,  and  Irwin  can  afford  rather  more  flopping  off  from 
his  forces  than  Baxter  can,  and  then  add  to  that  the 


CULTIVATING  THE   FIKLD.  493 

fact  that  be  has  plenty  of  money,  and  will  spend  it 
without  stint  or  scruple.  Of  course,  I  know  what  you 
consider  the  elements  of  strength  in  Graham  ;  that  he 
has  a  fair  chance  to  get  a  good  portion  of  the  respectable 
vote,  and  that  he  appeals  strongly  to  the  patriotic  sen- 
timent, which  I  must  admit  is  an  element  of  strength. 
But  then  he  is  the  youngest  man  in  the  field,  and  you 
must  remember  Carter  was  a  soldier  also.  In  short, 
sometimes  I  think  they  all  start  off  with  elements  of 
strength  pretty  nearly  equal.  If  they  all  stay  in  the 
field,  which  seems  to  be,  as  I  said,  about  the  only  thing 
which  looks  certain  now,  I  would  not  be  surprised  if 
they  would  all  have  very  nearly  the  same  number  of 
votes  on  the  first  ballot." 

Tom  listened  attentively  to  Boyd  going  through  this 
analysis  of  the  situation,  drew  his  cigar  from  his 
mouth,  gave  a  long  exhalation  of  smoke  from  the  cor- 
ner of  his  lips,  rested  his  arm  on  the  arm  of  the  chair, 
and  made  reply,  by  asking,  "How  do  Sneath  and 
Birdie  talk  when  they  talk  to  you  ? ' ' 

"Well,  the}'  are  both  politicans,  you  know;  the}^ 
are  both  hunting  safe  ground." 

"  Where  are  their  actual  sympathies?  " 
"Well,  I  do  believe  they  actually' sympathize  with 
Graham  ;  in  fact,  I  was  standing  on  the  corner  only 
yesterday,  talking  with  the  Captain,  when  Swinegate 
came  along  and  accused  him  of  being  for  Graham, 
pointing  to  his  Grand  Army  button  and  saying,  '  Oh, 
we  know  where  you  are,  you  needn't  try  to  lie  out  of 
it,'  and  the  Captain  simply  smiled  and  said,  'Well, 
why  shouldn't  I  be?  '  " 

Tom  nodded  his  head  and  said,  "  Yes,  yes." 

"  Well,  now,"  said  Boyd,  "  you  have  asked  me  sev- 


494  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

eral  questions,  suppose  I  put  you  on  the  witness  stand 
awhile.     How  does  the  matter  look  to  you  ? ' ' 

"I  see  no  combination,  as  yet,  that  can  likely  be 
formed  against  him  suflQciently  strong  to  beat  him  ;  a 
little  concert  of  action  and  good  management  on  our 
part  and  he  is  bound  to  go  through." 

"Why,  }'OU  don't  suppose  he  is  going  to  be  strong 
enough  to  make  the  nomination  over  and  above  all  the 
others  combined,  do  you  !  " 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  Tom.  "  I  only  foresee  that  when 
the  irreconcilability  of  the  other  elements  becomes  mani- 
fest there  is  but  the  one  natural  place  for  them  to  go  to." 

"  I  know  what  you  think,  that  inasmuch  as  none  of 
the  others  can  make  it  on  the  first  ballot,  he  will  be  the 
go-between  who  will  walk  off  with  the  convention  ;  but 
don't  you  be  too  sure  of  that.  Don't  you  suppose  the 
two  rings  will  go  together  before  thc}^  will  suffer  either 
him  or  Carter  to  be  nominated  ?  " 

"Are  you  sure  that  if  the  two  rings  were  to  splice 
that  they  would  have  mote  than  both  Carter  and  Gra- 
ham," replied  Tom  ? 

"I  see  exactly  what  you  are  thinking,"  replied 
Boyd,  "and  exactly  what  your  plan  of  action  is  ;  but 
suppose  Graham  comes  into  the  convention  at  the  foot 
of  the  list,  and  with  a  number  of  delegates  consider- 
ably below  Carter ;  then  is  he  not  beaten  from  the 
start  ?  ' ' 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Tom,  with  that  perfect  confi- 
dence which  said,  "You  have  presented  nothing  new  to 
my  mind,  as  yet." 

Boj^d  threw  himself  back  a  little  farther  in  his  chair, 
took  a  fresh  draught  from  his  cigar,  and  replied  serenely, 
"Well  I  admire  your  confidence,  but  remember  now,  if 


CULTIVATING   THE)   FIELD.  495 

we  do  go  into  this  we  must  win  ;  it  will  require  con- 
cert of  action  and  good  management  on  our  part.  We 
will  just  have  to  make  a  little  combination  here  of  our 
own,  and  it  is  not  necessary  for  Graham  himself  to 
know  all  that  we  do.  I  will  do  what  I  promised  you 
with  Sneath  and  Birdie,  but  you  talk  with  them  too, 
and  you  must  know  how  far  to  go  with  Graham  him- 
self, because  you  will  be  held  responsible  for  what  pledges 
are  made  on  his  account.  It  will  take  a  considerable 
amount  of  suavity  to  get  all  these  elements  to  work 
smoothly  together,  and  not  onl}-  your  name,  but  your 
conduct,  justifies  the  belief  that  you  have  a  consider- 
able amount  of  it." 

"Well  now,  Boyd,  that  is  all  right;  just  you  help 
me  to  manage  the  Captain  and  Little  Birdie,  and  when 
the  thing  is  ripe  we  will  all  four  meet  together.  Of 
course,  there  are  some  things  that  will  take  very  nice 
management  to  fix  with  Graham  himself,  but  I  think 
it  can  be  arranged.  Remember  this  game  is  now  in 
our  hands  ;  its  heads  I  win,  tails  you  lose.  Good 
night."    He  arose,  seized  his  cane  and  walked  out. 

Boyd  closed  the  door  and  soliloquized  as  follows:  "'At 
this  distance  it  does  look  well  for  Graham,  I  must  con- 
fess, and  this  fellow  Swave  is  smart.  I  wanted  to  see 
how  he  could  meet  the  various  propositions  I  pro- 
pounded to  him,  but  I  see  clearly  that  he  has  thought 
over  all  the  contingencies  and  has  a  plan.  Although 
his  little  weekly  has  not  got  as  large  a  circulation  as 
the  other  papers,  it  gives  us  a  journal  at  least,  and  if 
he  works  the  thing  with  ability,  we  may  manufacture 
such  a  sentiment  for  Graham  between  now  and  the 
delegate  election  as  will  make  him  hard  to  beat, 
because,  remember,  we  don't  have  to  go  on  his  soldier 


496  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

record  alone,  as  is  frequentl)^  the  case  with  those  can- 
didates. Here  is  a  man  so  thorough!}'  competent,  and 
as  old  Judge  Lapham  says,  has  as  persuasive  and 
earnest  a  manner  of  addressing  a  jury  as  any  man  at 
the  bar,  and  one  that  gets  far  closer  to  them  than  those 
other  fellows  with  their  ranting  and  studied  eloquence. 
Yes,  sir,  we  may  be  able  to  bring  him  into  the  conven- 
tion the  highest  man  on  the  list.  In  that  event,  he  will 
be  sure  to  make  the  nomination,  and  even  if  he  can't 
come  in  head,  I  think  Swave  is  likely  right,  while  the 
candidates  can't  come  together  the  tendency  must  be 
to  fall  to  the  soldier.  But  where  is  the  money  to  come 
from?  That  is  the  question.  Will  Graham  believe  that 
all  of  the  amount  we  will  need  can  be  spent  legiti- 
mately?   Still  I  guess  Swave  can  manage  it." 

Tom  went  back  to  his  editorial  room,  drew  up  his 
chair  to  his  desk,  and  softl)^  soliloquized  as  follows  : 

"  Now  I  have  Boyd's  view  of  the  case.  He  carries 
a  pretty  level  head  and  looks  well  over  the  situation, 
but  though  he  may  have  been  testing  to  some  extent 
how  well  I  have  examined  it,  I  am  happy  to  know 
that  he  has  presented  no  view  of  the  matter  that  has 
not  already  occurred  to  me.  As  I  draw  out  in  my 
mind  that  soldier  record  which  can  always  be  so  art- 
fully played  upon  in  a  few  terse  sentences,  when  I 
allude  to  his  other  qualities,  when  I  ask  the  question, 
all  other  things  being  equal,  are  the  people  of  this  dis- 
trict unwilling  to  be  represented  in  Congress  by  one 
of  her  yeteran  soldiers,  are  all  his  scars  and  sufferings 
to  count  for  nothing?  I  awake  a  mighty  sentiment. 
No,  sir,  I  believe  what  old  Mr.  Williamson  told  him 
the  day  his  discharge  came  to  him,  'Lay  it  awaj' 
carefull)^     It  may  be  worth  more  to  you  than  the  best 


CULTIVATING  THE   FIELD.  497 

farm  in  Jefferson  count}',' is  about  to  come  true.  In 
fact,  it  may-bring  him  into  the  convention  at  the  head 
of  the  list.  I  am  ahnost  afraid  sometimes  that  it  will. 
If  he  starts  lower  down  on  the  list  his  chances  will  be 
better.  We  can  work  the  patriotic  sentiment  more 
effectively  at  the  eleventh  hour  than  at  any  other  time, 
and  I  am  still  of  my  original  opinion  that  Baxter  and 
Irwin  would  never  join  hands  to  beat  anybody.  They 
are  both  too  ambitious  and  jealous  of  each  other  for 
that,  though  ostensibly  friendly,  because  they  train 
largely  with  the  same  class  of  people,  and  use  largely 
the  same  methods,  and  the  same  reasons  will  keep 
them  from  going  together  to  make  anybody  else.  Nor 
can  Carter  afford  to  go  to  either  of  them  to  beat  Gra- 
ham. No,  sir  !  As  it  stands  to-night  he  holds  the  key 
to  the  situation.  The  only  question  is,  can  I  get  Walt, 
to  understand  that  we  can  spend  all  the  money  we  may 
need,  legitimately;  that  we  are  not  trying  to  buy  votes 
with  it ;  but  I  think  I  can  manage  it.  And  I  feel 
morally  certain  that  he  will  redeem  any  reasonable 
pledges  I  ma}'  make  for  him.  At  all  events,  somebody 
has  got  to  take  the  responsibility  of  doing  certain 
things  now. ' ' 

If  the  reader  has  observed  how  nearly,  as  a  whole, 
the  opinions  of  these  two  men  were  alike,  not  only  as 
to  the  situation,  but  as  to  each  other,  he  may,  perhaps, 
have  perceived,  also,  one  point  wherein  ttey  differed  ; 
but  of  that  hereafter.  Sufficient  now,  that  Tom  forged 
on  with  his  work.  His  editorials  were  sharp,  well- 
tempered  and  incisive.  The  four  weeks  developed 
what  he  had  expected.  That  the  Mercury  would  come 
out  flat  for  Carter,  it  now  advocating  him  with  vigor, 
saying,  "  That,  while  he  was  only  in  the  prime  of  life. 


498  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

he  was  riper  in  years  and  experience  than  any  of  the 
others,  who  were  all  young  and  could  well  afford  to 
wait."  In  fact,  there  was  potency  in  the  argument, 
but  Tom  maintained  his  equipoise.  He  only  said,  "It 
may,  possibly,  bring  him  in  ahead  on  the  first  ballot, 
but  we  are  not  specially  hurt  by  that."  Baxter,  as 
predicted,  had  the  Potato  Ring  well  in  hand,  and  the 
Herald  was  with  them  solid,  while  Irwin  was  supported 
by  Swinegate  and  the  most  of  the  Pork  Ring,  and  was 
spending  his  money  lavishly,  while  Tom  had  been 
mailing  everywhere  extra  copies  of  the  Press  and 
other  printed  circulars  to  every  Republican  voter  in  the 
count}^  without  regard  to  costs.  In  fact,  the  candi- 
dates were  well  nigh  down  to  their  best  by  this  time. 
Who  had  the  most  reserve  power  in  store,  who  could 
increase,  for  a  short  time,  his  speed,  would  soon  be 
tested.  Certain  it  was,  one  could  occasionally  hear 
passing  remarks  on  the  streets  from  the  people  who 
took  no  active  part  in  politics,  such  as  these  : 

"Young  Graham  seems  to  be  developing  more 
strength  than  I  had  thought  for.  Yes,  he  has  some 
good  running  qualities  about  him." 

"Yes,  and  he  is  a  man,  I  guess,  as  well  qualified  as 
any  of  them." 

"That  is  what  I  hear  some' people  say  ;  and  recol- 
lect, the}'  don't  get  up  many  better  soldier  records  than 
he  has." 

"Yes,  the  soldier  boys  ought  to  be  solid  for  him  ; 
and  I  tell  you,  when  such  a  man  is  qualified  the  people 
ought  to  be  solid  for  him,  too  ;  we  certainly  owe  some- 
thing to  such  a  man." 

"Yes,  but  how  about  Carter?  He  was  a  soldier, 
also?" 


CULTIVATING  THE   FIELD.  499 

"I  know  ;  but  that  part  of  his  case  is  lost  sight  of, 
when  compared  with  a  career  like  Graham's." 

Expressions  and  straws  like  these  dropping  from  the 
common  folks  served  as  a  stimulant  and  promise  ot 
hope  to  Walter  and  his  friends,  while  it  filled  with  un- 
uttered  apprehension  the  minds  of  each  of  the  other 
candidates,  and  caused  their  friends  to  say  in  secret 
counsel,  "  The  danger  that  threatens  us  now  is  that  the 
convention  maj'  be  stampeded  for  Graham  if  it  gets 
into  a  dead-lock;"  Potewright  and  Swinegate  gener- 
all)'  giving  emphasis  to  it  by  adding,  "These  d — d 
soldier  candidates  are  always  in  our  way.  They  have 
given  us  more  trouble  than  an}'  other  class  of  men." 

Such  was  the  condition  of  things  the  first  week  in 
June,  only  ten  days  before  the  delegate  election.  It 
was  one  evening  of  that  week  that  Boyd,  Tom  Swave 
and  Sneatli  were  all  in  council  in  Boyd's  law  office. 

"  Where  is  Birdie  to-night,"  said  Tom  ;  "  I  thought 
he  was  going  to  meet  with  us. ' ' 

"Oh,  he  is  all  right.  I  have  a  thorough  under- 
standing with  him,  and  it's  just  as  well  he's  not  here. 
Small  bodies  can  work  with  less  friction  than  large 
ones,"  replied  Boyd. 

"Well,  that  is  so,"  replied  To:n  ;  "just  so  you  are 
sure  you  know  your  ground." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  the  thing  is  looking  first-rate  now,"  said 
the  Captain ;  "  but  we  must  have  more  money,  or  they 
will  lick  us  yet.  You  see,  if  we  hire  one  or  more  good 
fellows  in  each  district  to  distribute  these  documents 
for  us  it  stimulates  them  wonderfully;  and  then  we  must 
have  tickets  printed  for  each  separate  district  and  ready 
for  them.  And  another  thing  :  it  is  very  important  to 
have  somebody  in  each  district  in  the  county  to  bring 


500  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN, 

US  in  the  returns  that  night,  or  not  later  than  Sunday- 
night.  You  may  bet  these  other  fellows  will  know  by 
that  time  just  how  every  delegate  stands  ;  and  just  how 
to  work  the  doubtful  fellows,  and  what  deals  can  be 
made  with  them  for  other  points,  and  everything  else  ; 
I  have  been  with,  them  ;  I  know." 

"  Yes,  I  think  myself  it  is  important  that  we  should 
know^  by  Sunday  night  how  the  delegates  stand.  I 
tell  you,  to  get  all  this  done  it  is  going  to  run  into  a 
power  of  mone}',"  replied  Tom. 

"Oh,  well,  Graliam  can  stand  it,"  said  Boyd,  "or 
if  he  can't,  his  wife  can,  or  her  folks.  You  can  fix 
that  no  doubt,  and  while  we  are  on  that  subject,  I  will 
tell  3-ou  how  we  can  save  him  somewhat.  Here  is 
Birdie's  case  with  his  Third  Ward. 

"These  other  fellows  are  after  him  strong,  you  know. 
I  have  been  thinking  about  this.  How  would  it  do  to 
let  him  take  some  of  Irwin's  or  Baxter's  money  ?  He 
need  not  necessarily  cheat  them.  Let  him  promise 
them  that  the  best  he  can  do  for  them  is  to  get  them 
one  delegate  right  at  the  last,  and  then  with  the  same 
money  he  can  get  the  other  three  delegates  of  the 
ward  for  Graham,  or  even  only  two  if  he  has  to  deal 
with  both  Baxter  and  Irwin  ;  and  even  then  let  him 
have  it  so  arranged  that  their  votes  will  be  only 
complimentary;  let  him  have  it  understood  with  these 
two  delegates,  or  one,  as  the  case  ma}-  be,  that  they  are 
to  vote  for  Graham  whenever  he  tells  them." 

"That  is  all  very  nice  as  a  plan  to  listen  to,"  said 
Tom,  "  but  are  you  sure  it  could  be  put  into  practice, 
when  you  deal  with  a  man  who  tells  you  he  is  going  to 
serve  you  by  cheating  somebod}^  else  ?  Are  you  sure 
you  may  not  be   the  one  that  is   to  be  cheated,  and 


CULTIVATING  THE   FIELD.  501 

besides,  how  can  he  manage  to  elect  part  of  his  own 
ticket,  and  then  jnst  the  fellow  he  wants  of  the  others  ?' ' 

"Oh,  eas}^  enough;  he  can  deliver  the  goods  in 
any  shape  he  chooses,"  said  Boyd.  "The  only  ques- 
tion is,  shall  we  agree  to  let  somebod)^  else  have  some 
complimentary  votes  out  of  the  ward,  even  if  we  are 
sure  of  getting  them  when  we  want  them.  Because, 
remember,  Birdie  is  not  going  to  cheat  them  if  he  goes 
into  it.  We  have  got  to  stand  by  the  contract  to  give 
them  at  least  one  vote.  The  only  question  is,  are  we 
willing  to  take  chances  on  that  one  vote  not  electing 
our  opponent  ?  I  will  guarantee  Birdie  can  arrange  it." 

"Well,  sir,  if  you  will  stand  responsible  for  the 
arrangement,  I  will  say  let  him  make  it,"  said 
Tom,  who  instantly  saw  that  it  might  be  a  good 
thing,  in  more  respects  than  one. 

"  Still,  I  don't  know  about  it,"  said  the  Captain.  "  I 
don't  take  much  stock  in  this  thing  of  giving  other 
fellows  complimentary  votes.    Suppose  it  elects  them  ?" 

"  I  will  take  the  chances  on  that  if  you  will  take  the 
chances  on  Birdie  being  able  to  deliver  the  goods  in 
that  shape,"  replied  Tom. 

"Oh,  there  is  no  doubt  about  that,"  replied  the 
Captain.  "  Boyd  and  I  will  both  guarantee  that  the 
Third  Ward  delegation  will  come  in  that  way  if  we 
say  so." 

"Then,  I  say  let  her  come  that  way,"  replied  Tom. 

Various  other  matters  of  detail  were  arranged  and 
talked  over,  until  about  ten  o'clock,  when  the  three 
men  dispersed,  Tom  and  the  Captain  walking  along 
together  until  they  came  to  the  door  of  a  pretentious- 
looking  saloon,  on  a  business  street,  when  the  Captain 
said,  "  L,et  us  go  in  and  see  what  Powderly's  beer  is 


502  WAI.TER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

like  to-night,  and  how  the  campaign  is  coming  on  in 
here  ;  we  will  sound  the  boys  a  little." 

The  two  men  walked  in.  The  Captain  appeared  to 
be  well  acquainted  with  the  bar-tender,  the  proprietor, 
and  every bod}^  inside,  by  the  way  he  sent  the  ejacula- 
tions forth. 

"Hello,  Pinkie;  hello,  Sam;  good  evening,  Mr. 
Powderly  ;  how  are  you  to-night.  I  brought  in  my 
friend,  Captain  Swave,  editor  of  the  Press,  to  see  you. 
Hello,  old  Mailer,  what  are  you  doing  round  back 
there,  and  how  is  Spooner?  I  see  you  still  keep  him 
with  you  to  keep  you  straight." 

These  and  other  familiar  salutations  the  Captain 
went  through,  which  were  responded  to  by  the  loafers 
in  the  chairs,  with  diverse  broad  grins  and  gutteral 
grunts,  and  by  Mr.  Powderly,  the  proprietor,  with 
very  bland  bows  and  courtesies,  as  he  said  : 

"Good  evening,  gentlemen,  good  evening,  glad  to 
see  you  ;  take  seats.  Oh,  yes,  I  know  Captain  Swave; 
he  and  my  brother  were  in  the  same  company  in 
the  army.  Take  seats,  gentlemen.  Perhaps  you  would 
prefer  going  into  the  side- room." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  Captain,  "we  will  go  in  and 
occupy  one  of  the  tables.  We  thought  we  would  just 
drop  in  and  see  whether  your  beer  was  in  good  condition 
to  night;  I  haven't  had  any  all  day.  lyCt  the  boys  all 
have  a  'night  cap'  before  they  go  to  bed;"  laying  a 
dollar  down  on  the  counter,  '  you  bring  the  change 
in  with  you  Pinkie,  if  there  is  any,  and  don't  forget 
Mr.  Swave  and  I  take  a  little  cheese  and  pretzel  with 
ours. ' ' 

The  men  occupying  the  chairs  all  proceeded  to  the 
bar  to  take  their  "night  cap,"  which  meant  in  the  Ian- 


CULTIVATING  THE   FIELD.  503 

guage  of  the  saloon,  a  drink  before  they  retired.  The 
Captain  and  Tom  entered  the  side-room  and  seated 
themselves  by  a  table,  while  Mr  Powderly  soon  fol- 
lowed himself,  with  the  beer  and  cheese  on  a  waiter, 
saying — "  There  are  pretzels  on  the  table,  gentlemen  ; 
just  help  yourselves." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Powderly,"  responded  the  Captain. 
"By  the  way,  you  said  you  had  a  brother  in  the  same 
company  as  our  friend  Swave.  I  reckon  he  is  for  Gra- 
ham for  Congress,  is  he  ?  How  is  the  congressional 
fight  coming  on  wiili  you  here,  anyhow  ?  All  for 
Graham,  are  you  ?  You  know  we  old  veterans  must 
stick  tegether." 

"  Well,  there  seems  to  be  considerable  talk  about  it 
now,"  responded  Mr.  Powderly,  with  a  bland  smile, 
and  still  fussing  around  to  oblige  his  customers.  "  I 
find  some  people  for  one  and  some  for  another  can- 
didate. I  guess  Graham  has  a  good  many  friends 
though . ' ' 

'  'You  had  better  believe  he  has, ' '  exclaimed  the  Cap- 
tain. "He's  going  to  win  this  fight,  too.  Do  you  know 
that?  What  do  you  sa}^  Pinkie?"  addressing  himself 
to  the  bartender,  who  had  just  then  arrived  with  the 
change  and  a  fresh  supply  of  pretzels. 

"  Oh,  Graham  never  spends  anything  with  the  land- 
lords. I  am  afraid  he  will  be  left,"  replied  Pinkie, 
rather  demurely,  and  looking  towards  his  employer  to 
see  if  he  had  given  the  right  answer. 

"Why,  aren't  we  spending  something  with  you 
now?"  responded  the  Captain. 

"  Yes,  but  you  can't  shut  nobody's  eye  up  that  way, 
Captain.  You  are  just  doing  this  on  your  own  ac- 
count," said  Pinkie. 


504  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"You  are  quite  light  there,"  interposed  Tom. 
"Major  Graham  has  authorized  no  person  to  go 
around  saloons  treating  for  him.  Whatever  we  do  here 
must  be  considered  our  own  act." 

"  Yes,  yes;  that  is  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Powderly.  "In 
fact,  I  giv'e  every  man  credit  for  standing  by  his  own 
principles,  and  there  is  no  mistake  there  are  a  great 
many  people  friendly  to  him  My  brother  is  for  him, 
that's  certain.  He  wants  me  to  be  for  him,  too  ;  but 
you  see  it  is  pretty  hard  to  tell  what  to  do.  Here  is 
Irwin  on  my  bond." 

"  Oh,  fall  in  line  with  us,  Mr.  Powderly.  Be  on  the 
winning  side,"  replied  the  Captain. 

"Oh,  Graham  can't  win,"  interposed  Pinkie.  "  He 
won't  have  the  delegates  of  more  than  three  townships  ; 
if  he  had  one  of  the  rings  with  him  he  might  have 
some  .show." 

The  Captain  here  pulled  a  ten-dollar  bill  out  of  his 
pocket,  and  holding  it  up,  said,  "Look  here,  Pinkie  ; 
I  will  just  bet  you  a  ten-dollar  bill  that  he  comes  into 
the  convention  with  the  delegates  of  ten  districts,  and 
that  my  two  old  town.ships  of  Highland  and  Waterfall 
will  be  among  them 

"Oh,  well,  I'm  not  just  a-betting  to-night,"  re- 
responded  Pinkie.  "  Of  course,  he  may  carry  your  old 
townships,  but  that  won't  nominate  him." 

"  Well,  I  tell  you,  I  kind  of  half  believe  myself  he 
is  going  to  be  strong,"  interposed  Powderly.  "  Pote- 
wright  told  me  the  other  day  himself,  that  if  their 
ring  had  taken  Graham  they  could  have  made  him, 
easy." 

The  Captain  here  threw  his  legs  up  on  the  adjoining 
table,  took  a  fresh  sip  of  his  beer  and  proceeded  to 


CULTIVATING   THE   FIELD.  505 

sing  two  stanzas  of  "Rally  'Round  the  Flag,  Boys," 
in  clear,  distinct  tones,  until  Spooner  halloaed  in  from 
the  other  room,  "That's  the  stuff." 

"You're  right,"  said  the  Captain,  finishing  his 
cheese  and  beer,  and  proceeding  to  the  other  room, 
where  the  men  were  still  hanging  on  in  hopes  of 
another  "night  cap."  "  You're  with  us  solid,  are  you 
not,  Spooner?  You're  an  old  vet." 

"  You  bet,  I  am,"  replied  Spooner  ;  "I  didn't  tramp 
my  old  legs  oiF  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea  for  nothing  ;  I 
am  for  Graham,  and  I  don't  care  who  knows  it.  Some 
of  them  were  trying  to  preach  up  to  me  the  other  day 
that  Graham  was  too  much  temperance,  but  I  told 
them  it  was  no  use.  I  am  for  the  man  that  stood 
shoulder  to  shoulder  with  us  when  we  needed  men." 

' '  Yes,  sir  ;  that  is  the  point.  When  the  Johnnies 
were  peppering  us  down  there,  we  didn't  ask  whether 
he  was  a  temperance  man.  Democrat,  Republican,  or 
what  he  was,  just  so  he  stood  up  to  the  rack." 

Here  the  Captain  and  Spooner  both  started  up  in 
concert,  "Marching  Through  Georgia,"  which  they 
sang  through  to  the  end,  after  which  the  Captain  again 
held  up  his  ten-dollar  bill,  saying,  "Well,  Pinkie,  are 
3^ou  going  to  take  that  bet ' ' 

"Oh,  no.  I  am  not  betting  to-night,  but  you  will 
see. ' ' 

"  Well,  look  here,"  said  the  Captain.  "  I  will  give 
you  another  chance  if  you  are  so  certain.  I  will  bet 
you  this  ten-dollar  bill  that  Graham  will  be  our  next 
Congressman,     Now  take  it  up,  if  you  dare." 

The  Captain  feeling  prett}^  confident  that  Pinkie  did 


506  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

not  have  ten  dollars  of  his  own,  had  sallied  forth  on 
this  bold  venture  for  effect.  Pinkie  flushed  up,  fingered 
and  rummaged  in  the  drawer,  exclaiming,  "  Hold  on, 
hold  on  ;  well,  just  wait  a  bit.  Mr.  Powderly,  will 
3-ou  lend  me  five  dollars  ?  Will  you  go  halves  on  this 
bet?" 

The  loafers  around  began  to  laugh  and  titter,  and 
Powderly  was  saying,  "No,  I  don't  want  halves  in 
any  bet.  I  wouldn't  bet  three  cents  how  this  thing  is 
going  to  go." 

The  Captain,  now  realizing  that  his  venture  had 
been  more  successful  than  he  could  have  hoped 
gave  it  a  finishing  touch  by  saying,  "Well,  here,  if 
none  of  you  have  sand  enough  in  you  to  take  it  up,  let 
us  have  another  'night-cap'  and  go.  It's  getting 
late;  Captain  Swave  and  I  must  be  moving  on,"  at 
which  he  laid  down  another  dollar  on  the  bar  and  they 
all  proceeded  to  drink  except  Tom,  who  politely 
excused  himself. 

Tom  and  he  then  bade  them  good-night  and  started 
out.  As  they  walked  along  the  Captain  said,  "  That 
is  the  way  to  manufacture  sentiment.  Some  work  up 
matters  in  the  churches  and  some  in  the  saloons,  and 
if  a  man  is  only  lucky  enough  to  get  both  on  his  side, 
he  is  pretty  sure  to  win." 

"Suppose  you  can  get  but  one  of  them,  which  is 
most  likely  to  win  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

"That  sometime^  is  a  doubtful  question,"  replied 
the  Captain,  "  but  always  get  both  whenev^er  you  can." 

The}^  parted  on  the  corner.  Tom  returning  to  his 
editorial  sanctum,  seated  himself  once  more  at  his 
desk  and  meditated,  as  follows  :  "  Thus  it  is,  that  sen- 
timent is  manufactured  in  the  saloon,  at  the  expense 


CULTIVATING   THE   FIELD.  507 

of  human  souls,  amid  the  ruins  of  broken  fortunes,  of 
desolate  homes,  and  starving  children.  And  how  can 
we  hold  Powderly  and  his  fraternity  alone  responsible, 
while  we,  who  claim  to  be  the  respectable  portion  of 
the  community,  give  him  our  moral  support,  while 
those  who  count  themselves  the  elite  of  society,  feign 
would  conquer  through  him,  and  smile  on  the  misery 
his  trade  has  wrought,  though  they  would  not  think 
of  inviting  him  to  their  social  board  ?  Oh,  contempt  on 
such  hypocrisy!  Nay,  surely  it  is  not  I  who  am  in  a 
position  to  throw  the  first  stone  !  How  am  I  better 
than  the  rest,  if  I  stand  complacently  by  and  expect  to 
profit  by  the  same  means?  Oh,  poor,  weak,  inconsist- 
ent human  nature,  may  I  not  pray  '  Lead  us  not  into 
temptation,'  while  Thou,  O  Father,  judgest  in  mercy 
my  motives,  and  creditest  me  at  least  with  having  said 
this  is  our  act,  not  Walter's  !  Look  down,  O  God, 
upon  my  lonely  soul  this  night  ;  upon  that  little 
church-yard  grave  where  all  my  family  lie  buried  ; 
upon  me  with  all  mj-  hopes  destroyed,  with  a  painful 
consciousness  of  all  my  sins,  and  say,  at  least,  that  I 
have  acted  from  a  generous  motive  in  my  endeavor  to 
make  Walter  Graham  Congressman? 

"Ah  !  Walter,  I  remember  when  j^our  mother  looked 
with  suspicious  eye  upon  my  too  frequent  visits  to 
your  place,  because  she  knew  I  was  unworthy  of  you 
and  your  sisters,  and  yet,  when  the  hour  of  affliction 
came  to  my  poor  mother,  she,  of  all  the  rest,  stood 
closest  by  her,  and  why?  Because  common  suffer- 
ing makes  all  the  world  akin.  Yes,  'tis  true.  I 
remember  when  I  lay  peppered,  as  the  Captain  calls  it, 
on  that  wheat-field  at  Gettysburg  ;  I  never  thought  of 
asking  of  the  men  who  carried  me  from  it,  to  what 


508  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

church,  or  to  what  doctrines  they  adhered,  to  what 
party,  what  race,  or  what  nationality  they  belonged. 
'Thank  God,  that  in  the  hour  of  our  direst  necessities, 
we  rely  not  upon  beliefs  and  creeds,  but  upon  the 
universal  brotherhood  of  man.  Nay,  then  why  should 
I  be  held  responsible,  if  upon  the  broad  field  of  common 
patriotism  and  humanity  I  find  a  place  where  bar- 
room and  pulpit  meet  ? 

"Why  blame  me  if  the  ball  that  pierced  Walter 
Graham  at  Cold  Harbor  has  made  him  Congressman  ? 
Why  should  I  be  held  accountable  if,  across  the  bloody 
stream  that  gushed  from  his  lungs  that  day,  saloon 
and  church  have  joined  hands?  Ah,  yes  !  How  beauti- 
ful that  sentiment,  and  yet,  why  is  it  that  it  don't 
quite  satisfy  me,  as  I  go  on  arranging  with  Birdie, 
smiling  on  the  Captain,  winking  at  the  saloon,  and 
doing  those  things  whose  every  detail  I  deem  best  not 
to  tell  to  Walter  ? ' ' 

Yes,  Tom,  lay  your  head  upon  your  desk  and  reason 
as  you  will ;  search'  what  balm  you  can  to  sooth, 
offended  conscience,  and  still  the  still  small  voice  is 
there. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

a  A  THF.RrXG  THE  CROP. 

ON  the  Sunday  evening  of  June  2d,  1878,  Walter 
Graham  took  a  walk  to  his  office  to  learn  the  latest 
news  from  the  delegate  election  of  the  previous  Satur- 
day. 

The  field  had  been  surveyed  for  a  year,  and  cul- 
tivated for  weeks.  Whatever  fruit  it  had  borne  was 
now  ready  to  be  gathered. 

How  large  a  crop  of  delegates  had  it  brought  him  ; 
what  course  might  be  wisest  to  pursue  in  harvesting  it 
between  showers,  and  to  confer  generally  with  his 
friend,  was  the  object  of  his  errand  that  night. 

When  he  parted  with  his  little  coterie  of  friends  at 
midnight  the  night  before,  enough  was  learned  to  know 
that  he  had  come  out  as  well  in  the  cit}'  as  he  had 
expected  ;  out  of  eleven  wards  he  had  carried  the  dele- 
gates in  two  for  certain,  while  Baxter  had  carried  four, 
Carter  two,  Irwin  two,  and  one-half  of  Birdie's  Third 
Ward  was  claimed  by  both  Baxter  and  Irwin  ;  while 
all  hands  seemed  to  concede  that  Graham  would  likely 
get  the  other  two  delegates,  or  the  half  of  the  ward. 

But  Tom  and  Boyd  and  the  Captain  smiled  confiden- 
tially at  each  other,  and  with  assurance  to  Walter  at 
these  reports  that  the  Third  Ward  would  not  be  solid  for 
for  him,  Tom  giving  him  full  assurance  before  he  left, 
that  he  could  rely  on  the  Third  whenever  it  was 
deemed  necessary  ;  this  gave  him  three  wards  in  the 
city,  bringing  him  up  next  to  Baxter. 


510  WAI^TER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Though  Walter  himself  did  not  exactl}^  understand 
how  two  certain  men  came  to  be  elected  in  the  Third, 
or  why  it  was  that  Birdie  himself  had  not  put  in  an 
appearance  up  to  that  time,  he  was  willing  to  take 
Tom's  word  for  it,  and  give  him  the  same  generous 
confidence  and  faith  in  his  integrity  and  ability  that 
he  had  done  years  before  when  he  implored  his  help  to 
procure  him  an  opportunity  to  speak  at  the  Shocktown 
Republican  meeting. 

Will.  Morton  had  telegraphed  them  the  night  before 
that  he  was  all  right  for  the  four  delegates  of  Mans- 
dale,  and  Dave  Miller  had  sent  the  same  intelligence 
from  his  old  township  of  Adams.  This  latter  informa- 
tion was  specially  gratifying  to  Walter  and  his  friends, 
for  it  had  been  bruited  about  by  Baxter  and  his  friends, 
that  Graham  would  not  be  able  to  carry  the  delegates 
of  his  old  township  ;  and  when  it  was  remembered  that 
the  ranklings  and  heart-burnings  made  by  the  old  Pat. 
McKnight-Bowers  fight  had  never  entirel}^  died  out, 
though  healed  ostensibly  on  the  surface  ;  that  the 
'Squire  and  Slybarr,  and  all  their  followers  with  all 
their  ability  in  managing  affairs  of  that  character, 
really  sympathized  now  as  they  always  had  done,  with 
the  "Potato  Ring;"  that  they  would  secretly  enjoy 
this  opportunity  to  get  square  with  the  enemy  that  had 
given  them  so  much  trouble,  if  it  gave  any  signs  of 
success  it  was  enough  to  fill  Walter's  mind  with  appre- 
hensions that  Baxter's  talk  might  not  be  a  mere  idle 
boast. 

In  fact,  in  view  of  this  situation,  Graham's  friends 
in  Adams  township,  including  his  father,  had  advised 
that  rather  than  enter  into  another  bitter  and  acri- 
monious contest,  such  as  they  had  experienced  in  Pat.'s 


GATHERING  THE   CROP.  511 

case,  they  should  accept  the  following  proposition  from 
Slybarr  : 

"  That,  whereas  he  and  all  his  friends  had  generally 
operated  with  the  other  ring,  and  the  ring  was 
thinking  very  hard  of  him  now  that  he  would  not 
stand  up  and  make  an  open  fight  for  Baxter,  and 
all  his  friends  had  told  Baxter  and  all  his  friends  that 
it  was  an  unreasonable  request  of  them  under  the  cir- 
cumstances to  ask  it,  and  of  course,  he  and  all  his 
friends  naturally  felt  that  they  ought  to  be  for  Walter, 
and  it  was  bad  enough,  to  be  sure,  if  local  pride 
should  not  amount  to  something  ;  what  he  had  to 
suggest  was,  that  as  he  had  great  interest  in  other 
parts  of  the  ticket,  they,  Walter's  friends,  should  name 
three  of  the  delegates  to  suit  themselves  ;  allow  him  to 
be  the  fourth  one,  with  the  fair  understanding  that  he 
might  vote  for  Baxter,  at  least  once,  if  it  was  sure  not 
to  elect  him,  and  that  he  would  be  with  the  rest  of  the 
delegation  for  Walter  on  all  other  occasions  ;  or,  at 
least,  whenever  they  required  it."  That,  he  said,  would 
let  him  down  easy  with  the  Baxter  people  and  enable 
him  to  work  some  little  points  for  his  other  friends, 
and  at  the  same  time  do  Walter  no  harm. 

Thus  stood  the  delegation  from  Adams  township 
that  night,  when  Dave  Miller  had  telegraphed  Walter 
that  it  was  all  right,  and  it  must  be  said,  in  justice  to 
Slybarr  that  he  had  no  intention  whatever  of  not  car- 
rying out  his  bargain  to  the  letter,  much  as  he  secretly 
would  have  rejoiced  to  have  seen  Walter  defeated  ;  but 
it  went  without  saying  that,  of  course,  he  was  supposed 
to  have  the  rest  of  the  delegation  snugly  in  his  vest 
pocket,  for  all  the  rest  of  the  ' '  Potato  Ring  ' '  slate, 
from  Sheriff  down  to  Prison  Inspectors. 


512  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

To  state  it  briefly,  even  the  night  before  enough  had 
been  heard  from  the  adjoining  townships,  and  those 
that  could  be  reached  by  telegraph,  to  give  the  captains 
of  all  the  other  candidates  to  fear  that  they  had  prob- 
ably not  properly  estimated  Graham's  strength,  and  giv- 
ing rise  to  such  instinctive  expressions,  as,  "  A  man 
that  has  been  knocked  down  by  a  rebel  bullet  is  prettj^ 
hard  to  be  knocked  down  as  a  candidate." 

"Yes,  he  is  a  hard  man  to  beat  on  general  princi- 
ples." 

"  Yes,  I  would  not  be  surprised  if  he  would  be  the 
candidate  yet." 

But  upon  this  Sunday  night,  when  Walter  reached 
his  office  to  be  greeted  by  his  friends  with  the  intelli- 
gence that  they  had  definite  reports  from  every  dis- 
strict  in  the  county,  and  that  it  was  certain  he  had  the 
plurality  of  the  delegates,  even  he  was  a  little  agree- 
ably surprised.  In  fact,  as  Tom  now  had  his  figures, 
which  he  had  made  up  from  the  reports  of  his  faithful 
agents,  they  were  as  follows  : 

Total  number  of  delegates,  210. 

Graham, 64 

Ba.xter • 55 

Carter, 50 

Irwin, 41 

Necessary  for  a  choice,  106. 
As  Tom  looked  thoughtfully  into  these  figures,  with 
drawn  eyebrows,  amid  the  ascending  smoke  from  his 
cigar,  he  did  not  seem  to  be  as  hopefitl  as  the  rest  of 
the  company,  including  Birdie,  who  had  now  joined 
them. 

He  knew  that  these  figures  included  Slybarr,  from 
Adams  township,  and  the  two  mysterious  delegates 
from  the  Third  Ward,  one  of  whom  had  to  vote  at 
least  once  for  Baxter,  and  the  other  for  Irwin,  reduc- 


GATHERING  THE  CROP.  518 

ing  Walter  really  to  sixty-one  on  the  first  ballot,  if 
they  should  finally  decide  to  let  them  all  fill  their  con- 
tract the  first  time  ;  and  to  have  them  vote  for  these 
respective  candidates  on  a  second  or  a  third  ballot, 
instead  of  the  first,  might  give  Walter  the  appearance 
of  going  backwards,  instead  of  forwards.  Exactly 
how  that  should  be  arranged  was  one  of  the  matters  of 
detail  that  Tom  would  think  over  and  decide  for  him- 
self. 

But  the  real  peril  of  Walter's  situation  at  that  time 
was,  as  he  expressed  it  to  the  trusted  few  who  remained 
after  eleven  o'clock,  "That,  after  deducting  all  these, 
and  making  reasonable  allowances  for  treachery  and 
unforeseen  contingencies,  Graham  will  probably  still 
start  off  ahead,  and  that  is  always  a  position  of  peril 
for  any  candidate  ;  the  field  is  always  liable  to  organize 
against  him." 

"Nonsense,"  sai4  Boyd,  "the  unexpected  strength 
which  he  has  now  shown  before  the  people,  will  make 
all  the  other  candidates,  when  they  see  they  are  beaten, 
start  on  the  run  to  see  which  can  be  first  to  claim  the 
credit  of  making  Graham." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Tom,  "  but  the  trouble  is,  no  one  of 
the  other  candidates  regard  themselves  as  beaten  ;  you 
will  find  they  all  expect  the  lightning  to  strike  them 
when  the  break  comes." 

"First  time  I  ever  saw  a  man  scared  because  his 
candidate  was  too  strong,"  replied  Boyd;  "don't  you 
see  what  you  have  always  relied  on  is  now  being  real- 
ized ;  that  his  respectability  and  the  direct  appeal, 
which  his  record  as  a  soldier  makes  to  the  patriotic 
sentiment,  has  already  made  him  stronger  than  either 
friend  or  foe  anticipated  ;  and  it  is  bound  to  put  him 
through.     I   know  they   are  alreadj^  looking  gloomy 


514  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

around  at  the  other  headquarters,  Baxter's  as  well  as 
the  rest." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  replied  Tom,  with  a  shake  of  his  head, 
"I  see  it  all ;  in  fact,  that  is  all  I  am  afraid  of,  that  it  has 
developed  itself  too  soon  ;  and  all  that  we  can  do  now 
is  to  keep  it  going  at  a  constant  high  pressure  until 
the  convention  meets  on  Wednesdaj^;  it  throws  us  on 
our  last  reserve  power  a  little  too  soon  I  would  rather 
see  him  to-night  in  Carter's  position  than  where  he  is. 
I  am  a  little  afraid.  I  repeat,  the  field  maj^  organize 
against  him,  but  we  must  keep  it  going  now  so  strong 
that  the  field  itself  will  be  vanquished." 

Little  Birdie  no'w  said,  "I  tell  you  where  we  can 
make  a  break  of  one  in  Carter's  delegation.  There  is 
Dan.  Sides,  he  has  been  elected  as  one  of  his  delegates 
from  Spire  township  ;  he  will  do  anything  I  want  him 
to  ;  he  will  come  to  us  whenever  he  votes  for  Carter  a 
time  or  two." 

' '  Yes,  yes, ' '  said  the  Captain.  ' '  He  is  under  obliga- 
tion to  me,  too  ;  I  did  him  a  favor  once.  He  will  not 
dare  to  go  back  on  me." 

As  the  company  dispersed,  each  going  his  respec- 
tive way,  Tom  and  Birdie  walked  along  together 
until  they  reached  the  latter' s  office  ;  they  entered  for 
a  few  minutes,  struck  the  light  in  the  back  office,  and 
went  carefully  over  the  list  of  delegates  once  more,  and 
all  that  need  be  reported  of  this  conversation  is,  as  fol- 
lows : 

"You  are  sure,  then,  Birdie,  that  those  two  fel- 
lows from  the  Third  Ward  can  be  relied  upon  ?  That 
they  will  not  slip  up  on  us  just  at  the  critical 
moment." 


GATHERING  THE   CROP.  515 

' '  You  may  bet  }'our  bottom  dollar  on  it  they  are  all 
right. ' ' 

"And  are  you  sure  now  that  Swinegate  regards 
Irwin  as  lost  ?  Do  you  think  he  is  ready  to  negotiate  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  am  satisfied  he  does  ;  but  he  is  not  ready  to 
say  so  to  Irwin  yet.  He  declares  he  has  thirty  of  those 
delegates  that  he  can  put  just  where  he  pleases.  He 
will  meet  you  right  here  to-night  yet,  if  you  stay  long 
enough.  He  only  wants  to  get  in  without  anyone  see- 
ing him." 

' '  And  3'ou  think  we  had  better  send  a  messenger  out 
to  Spire  to  see  Sides  to-night  yet  ? ' ' 

"  By  all  means," 

"  Then  you  will  attend  to  it,  will  you  ?  "  / 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  will  attend  to  it." 

"Good-night,  then  ;  I  will  wait  here  until  Swinegate 
comes. ' ' 

The  reader,  perhaps,  understands  by  this  time,  that 
these  delegates  had  all  been  elected  in  the  different 
election  districts,  either  by  instruction  as  to  who  the 
choice  of  the  people  was  for  Congressman,  or  by  a  choice 
from  among  different  candidates,  whose  preferences 
were  supposed  to  be  understood  by  the  voter,  as  in  the 
Third  Ward  of  Sharwood. 

The  contest  was  one  of  the  most  thorough  ever 
experienced  in  Jefferson  county  for  a  congressional 
nomination.  The  people  were  thoroughly  aroused ; 
the  vote  at  the  delegate  election  had  been  large.  It 
would  have  been  almost  impossible  for  any  delegate 
to  have  made  an  absolute  betrayal  of  his  trust  without 
receiving  the  condemnation  of  his  constituents. 

These  figures,  as  Walter's  friends  had  them  compiled 
that  Sunday  evening,  might  be  relied  upon  as  showing 


516  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

the  strength  of  the  respective  candidates  on  the  first 
ballot  with  considerable  accuracy.  The  margin  for 
treachery  was  indeed  small. 

All  eyes,  all  candidates,  all  workers,  were  in  a  high 
state  of  nervous  excitement  and  suspense  as  to  what 
might  be  the  outcome  after  the  convention  assembled, 
and  the  dead-lock  began  to  wear  itself  out. 

Up  to  the  Wednesday  morning,  when  the  convention 
was  assembling,  there  seemed  to  be  no  visible  change 
in  the  situation,  except  that  the  general  interest  had 
deepened.  The  crowd  at  the  hall  was  unusually  large 
long  before  the  hour  for  opening  the  doors.  Every- 
body seemed  to  be  impressed  that  there  was  going  to 
be  "  a  tough  fight." 

The  tension  on  the  minds  of  the  respective  captains 
and  candidates  had  been  great,  but  it  was  noticeable 
that  through  it  all  Major  Graham  had  preserved  a 
steady  and  becoming  dignit}'.  He  seemed  calm  and 
unexcited,  though  cheerful  and  hopeful,  to  the  numer- 
ous friends  who  were  now  crowding  around. 

He  said  politely  but  imperatively  to  his  trusted  few 
the  last  ten  minutes  before  the  convention  was  called 
to  order  : 

"Remember  now,  my  friends,  that  I  make  no  con- 
cealment of  my  desire  to  be  Congressman  from  this 
district ;  but  understand  another  thing  equally  clearly, 
that  while  I  have  not  haggled,  and  do  not  intend  to 
haggle  about  any  legitimate  expenses  to  develop  all 
that  there  is  legitimately  for  me  in  this  campaign,  I 
have  no  money  to  spend  for  the  purchase  of  a  single 
vote  in  this  conventio  nor  elsewhere,  even  if  it  should 
make  me  Congressman  ;  not  that  I  mistrust  any  of  my 
friends,  but  that  in   this  last   pivotal  moment  which 


GATHERING   THE   CROP.  517 

sometimes  tempts  poor  human  nature,  I  deem  it  proper 
that  I  let  my  position  in  the  matter  be  fairly  under- 
stood. 

"And  now,  my  friends,  trusting  that  I  fully  appre- 
ciate all  that  each  of  you  have  done  in  my  behalf,  I 
shall  keep  respectably  in  the  back-ground  while  you 
finish  this  fight  on  your  own  line  of  battle  and  accord- 
ing to  your  own  judgments,  thanking  you  just  as 
much  if  defeated  as  if  successful." 

At  exactly  ten  minutes  after  eleven  the  chairman  of 
the  county  committee  called  the  convention  to  order. 
Every  delegate  answered  to  the  roll  call,  and  the  hall 
was  crowded  with  spectators  to  its  utmost  capacity. 

There  was  not  a  single  contested  seat ;  all  hands 
seemed  to  recognize  that  it  was  to  be  largely  a  mere 
contest  of  endurance. 

The  preliminaries  of  the  organization  were  gone 
through  with  without  an  exciting  incident.  George 
Dowe,  a  retired  farmer  and  merchant  of  Becker  town- 
ship, was  unanimously  chosen  permanent  president. 

It  was  generally  understood  that  he  was  a  Carter 
man  ;  but  all  factions  seemed  to  agree  that  it  would  be 
wise  to  organize  without  a  contest  ;  and  Dowe  was  a 
man  in  whose  fairness  they  were  all  willing  to  trust. 

It  was  half-past  eleven  when  President  Dowe  an- 
nounced that  the  convention  was  ready  to  receive  the 
general  nominations  for  Congressman. 

Mr.  Light,  of  the  First  Ward  of  Sharwood,  arose  and 
commenced  to  nominate  John  Baxter,  of  Sharwood,  in 
a  stilted  speech  of  five  minutes,  extolling  his  virtues, 
and  endeavoring  to  relieve  his  studied  sentences  by 
some  spread-eagle  gestures,  greatly  to  the  disgust  of 


518  WALTER    GRAHAM,  STATESMAN. 

the  impatient  crowd  who  were  waiting  for  the  voting 
to  commence. 

In  fact,  I  have  somethimes  thought  there  are  few 
things  more  ludicrous  than  the  ordinary  nominating 
speech  before  a  political  convention,  where  the  dele- 
gates are  either  all  instructed  by  their  constituents,  or 
held  well  in  hand  by  the  bosses  whose  instructions  are 
frequently  more  potent. 

Three  reasons  may  be  given  which  render,  nine 
times  out  of  ten,  the  nominating  speech  utterly  futile  : 

First,  the  delegates  are  generally  instructed. 

Second,  the  convention  orator  is  a  rare  type  of  man — 
he  who  has  the  magnetism,  the  indescribable  some- 
thing which  makes  men  do  that  which  they  did  not 
intend  to,  when  under  the  influence  of  his  words.  That 
power  which  we  call  eloquence,  is  seldom  ever  in  the 
convention. 

And,  third,  because,  to  make  his  efforts  most  effec- 
tive, to  stampede  a  convention  to  a  certain  result,  the 
flood  must  be  taken  exactly  at  its  tide;  not  one  minute 
too  late,  not  one  minute  too  early. 

Light  took  his  seat  amid  an  applause  as  mechanical 
and  formal  as  had  been  his  speech. 

When  quiet  was  restored  Professor  Baker,  at  the 
head  of  the  Adams  township  delegation,  arose  ;  his 
locks  were  white ;  his  face  was  classical  ;  his  form 
erect  ;  his  figure  was  unique.  He  was  in  the  sixty- 
second  year  of  his  age,  but  he  had  never  been  in  a 
political  convention  as  a  delegate  before.  He  was  there 
now  at  the  special  request  of  Walter  Graham,  whose 
thought  it  was  to  have  him  head  the  Adams  township 
delegation,  and,  by  the  judgment  of  Tom  Swave,  who, 
upon   mature   reflection,    had   concluded    it    was    the 


GATHERING  THE   CROP.  519 

proper  thing  to  have  him  make  the  nominating  speech, 
notwithstanding  the  other  advisers  had  told  him  that 
it  was  not  practical  politics. 

What  the  Professor  said  was,  substantially,  as  follows  : 

' '  Mr.  President,  and  gentlemen  of  the  convention  :  I 
confess  to  a  feeling  of  considerable  diffidence,  almost  of 
timidity,  in  rising  on  this  occasion,  but  the  great  inter- 
est, the  pardonable  pride,  which  I  feel  in  the  welfare,  the 
private  and  public  career  of  him  in  whose  behalf  I  am 
about  to  say  a  few  words,  has  caused  me  to  forego  all 
hesitancy. 

"In  proposing  the  name  of  Major  Graham  to  this 
convention  as  a  candidate  for  Congress,  I  am  proposing 
one  whom  I  have  known  personally  from  his  early 
childhood  up  to  the  present  hour.  That  alone  is  of 
course  no  reason  why  we  should  nominate  him  for  Con- 
gress to-day,  but,  when  I  have  known  him,  so  favor- 
ably, known  him  so  well,  known  him  though  more  than 
twenty  years  my  junior,  only  to  honor  him,  it  is  a  rea- 
son why  I  should  speak  with  some  feeling  on  this 
occasion. 

"  When  I  first  saw  Major  Graham  he  was  only  ten 
years  old.  It  was  a  hot  July  evening;  he  was  standing 
in  the  middle  of  Silver  creek,  with  his  pant  legs  rolled 
up  to  their  full  extent,  endeavoring  to  drive  some  cows 
out  of  the  creek  which  had  waded  into  a  deep 
place,  far  beyond  the  depth  of  his  wading  powers. 

"The  cows,  having  become  very  contented,  quite 
undisturbed  by  his  gesticulations  and  splashings  with 
his  stick,  he  returned  to  the  shore,  stripped  off,  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  his  not  very  elaborate  supply  of 
clothes,  took  his  switch  in  his  hand,  and  to  my  great 
astonishment  plunged  head  foremost  into  the  water  at 


520  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

its  deepest  place,  swam  around  with  the  ease  of  a  frog, 
and  drove  the  cows  out  before  him. 

"  Neither  do  I  offer  this  as  a  serious  reason  why  he 
should  be  sent  to  Congress,  but  I  do  contend  that  it  is 
one  of  the  evidences  of  that  strong  physical  constitu- 
tion and  development  which  are  born,  first  of  good 
parentage,  then  developed  in  the  rugged  association 
of  farm  or  workshop,  and  which  are  just  as  essential  to 
mental  growth  and  education  as  schools  and  colleges, 

"  But  this  is  not  all  that  I  saw  of  Walter  Graham.  I 
saw  him  pass  back  and  forth  to  the  village  public  .school, 
the  peer  of  any  boy  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  years 
at  either  physical  or  mental  feat ;  but  I  never  heard  of 
his  being  sick.  I  saw  him,  when  yet  a  lad,  enter  my 
own  academy  for  the  higher  instruction  of  the  boys 
and  girls  of  the  neighborhood,  pass  through  it  in  two 
years  with  great  credit,  graduating  with  the  honors  of 
his  class,  as  the  phrase  goes. 

"  I  saw  him  start  when  but  yet  a  boy  in  his  teens  for 
the  seat  of  war. 

"Ah  !  my  friends,  what  stirring  times  were  those  ;  it 
seems  to  me  but  yesterday,  and  yet  it  seems  to  us  all 
now  as  though  it  must  have  been  a  dream.  But  still, 
I  remember  so  distinctly  the  coming  home  of  Walter 
Graham  from  that  war;  not  the  bouyant  boy  of  eighteen, 
without  ache,  without  scar,  without  blemish,  but 
the  young  major  of  twenty-one,  with  features  emaci- 
ated from  suffering,  with  body  lacerated  with  wounds. 

"Ah!  my  friends,  than  Walter  Graham's  there  is 
no  prouder  record  among  all  the  heroic  sons  of  the 
North  who  went  forth  to  uphold  the  nation's  honor. 

"Nay,  my  friends,  I  saw  more.  I  saw  him  lean, 
pale  as  a  corpse  from  his  army  wounds,  on  the  arm  of 


GATHERING    THE   CROP.  521 

his  father,  as  he  walked  from  the  carriage  to  the  win- 
dow to  poll  his  maiden  vote  for  Abraham  L,incoln. 
That  is  the  kind  of  Republican,  as  well  as  soldier,  we 
offer  this  convention  to-day  for  Congressman. 

"  But  not  on  that  alone  does  his  claim  rest.  I  saw 
him  rise  gradually  from  that  condition  to  health  ;  tak- 
ing, during  the  period  of  recuperation,  such  further 
instructions  in  the  higher  branches  as  it  was  in  my 
humble  power  to  give  him  ;  preparing  himself  thus  for 
college.  I  saw  him  leave  for  Ann  Arbor,  to  prepare 
himself  for  the  law,  after  having  paid  off  the  last  dollar 
of  his  father's  debt  with  his  own  blood-earned  money. 

"  I  have  seen  him  since  rise,  by  virtue  of  his  intellec- 
tual powers,  his  fidelity  to  purpose,  his  probity  of  char- 
acter, and  his  stainless  private  life,  to  a  distinction 
remarkable  for  one  at  his  age  in  his  profession. 

"Mr.  President,  such,  in  brief,  are  the  history,  the 
character  and  qualifications  of  the  man  whom  we  have 
the  honor  to  present  here  this  day  as  a  candidate  for 
Congress.  Will  this  convention  of  the  Republican 
party  deny  him  his  request  ? 

"  I  have  not  allowed  myself  to  believe  it.  I  have 
faith  in  the  patriotic  sentiment  of  the  people.  I  do  not 
believe  that  republics  are  always  ungrateful.  It  is  no 
disparagement  to  any  other  candidate  to  be  beaten  by 
such  a  rival.  Mr.  President,  I  have  the  honor  to  nomi- 
nate for  Congress,  Major  Walter  Graham." 

The  Professor's  voice  had  been  a  little  tremulous, 
almost  husky,  at  the  start ;  but  it  gradually  grew 
clearer,  and  filled  with  a  deep  pathos,  accompanied 
with  that  sincerity  of  manner  which  makes  up  some- 
thing not  far  removed  from  eloquence. 

When  he  took  his  seat  there  followed,  for  a  few  sec- 


522  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

onds,  a  stillness  which  was  far  more  significant  than 
applause.  In  another  second,  the  cheers  broke  forth 
with  a  spontaneity,  which  was  wonderfully  in  contrast 
with  those  which  had  followed  Light. 

Tom  Swave,  who  had  watched  every  pulse-beat  of 
audience  and  speaker  during  the  delivery,  was  now 
well  satisfied  with  his  course  ;  even  to  the  galleries, 
which  he  had  taken  the  pains  to  see  should  have  their 
full  quota  of  Graham  cheerers,  chief  among  whom  was 
Pat.  McKnight,  who  ended  them  with  a  loud  call  for 
three  cheers  for  Graham,  which  were  given  with  a  will. 

Professor  Baker's  speech  had  come  well  nigh  up  to 
the  requirement  of  eloquence  in  moving  the  conven- 
tion ;  but  it  was  a  little  unfortunate  in  that  third  ele- 
ment, as  to  time.  Had  the  vote  been  taken  right  then 
it  might  almost  have  carried  Walter  with  it  on  the  sec- 
ond ballot ;  but  heavy  and  formal  speeches  had  to  be 
listened  to  in  nominating  Carter  and  Irwin  ;  and  it  was 
not  until  the  last  speaker  was  about  through  that  Tom 
Swave  finally  decided,  in  his  mind,  to  allow  Slybarr  to 
vote  on  the  first  ballot  for  Baxter.  He  accordingly, 
just  before  the  roll  call,  gave  him  the  signal,  which  he 
understood. 

All  is  silent  now ;  that  scene  which  was  but  a 
moment  before  so  turbulent,  is  now  in  perfect  stillness  ; 
the  clerks  are  read}^  and  a  hundred  interested  specta- 
tors all  through  the  audience  have  paper  and  pencil 
ready  to  keep  tally  as  the  roll  is  called. 

The  first  district  on  the  list,  of  course,  is  Adams 
township.  The  first  three  delegates  vote  as  antici- 
pated. The  fourth  call  is  Joshua  E.  Slybarr.  The 
answer  goes  up  "  Baxter  !  " 

A  slight   sensation   in    the  midst  of  delegates  and 


GATHERING  THE  CROP.  523 

spectators,  which  sa3^s  in  unexpressed  words :  that 
looks  bad  for  Graham  ;  there  is  a  break-down  right  at 
the  start ;  he  should  have  been  able  to  have  held  his 
old  township  solid.  It  appears  Potewright  has  a  pretty 
solid  grip  on  that  township. 

The  vote  proceeds  till  the  Third  Ward,  Sharwood,  is 
reached  ;  all  ears  are  strained  to  hear  the  responses 
from  those  delegates  ;  as  Irwin  receives  one  vote  and 
Baxter  one,  Graham's  friends  again  shake  their  heads 
with  misgivings.  The  Baxter  men  look  well  pleased  ; 
but  Tom  Swave  sits  undisturbed  in  his  seat  as  one  of 
the  Fifth  Ward  delegates.  The  President  says  :  "  The 
clerks  agree  in  their  count.  I  announce  the  result  of 
the  first  ballot,  as  follows  : 

Graham,      6i 

Baxter, 57 

Carter, 50 

Irwin, 42 

Necessary  for  a  choice,  106." 
The  convention   again  proceeded  to  ballot,  Adams 
township  leading  off  as  she  did  before,  until  Joshua 
E.  Slj^barr  was  called.     This  time  the  answer  went  up, 
"  Graham." 

From  that  time  on  the  vote  is  listened  to  with  sus- 
pense, as  ever}-  delegate  answers  to  his  name  ;  espec- 
ially as  the  Third  Ward  is  called,  which  recorded  itself 
exactly  as  before.  The  end  is  reached.  Again  the 
President  announces  the  result.     Second  ballot : 

Graham, 62 

Baxter, 56 

Carter, 50 

Irwin, 42 

Necessary  for  a  choice,  106. 
The  Baxter  men  did  not   look  quite  so   radiant   as 


524  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

the}'  did  after  the  first  ballot ;  but  the  Carter  and  Irwin 
people  smiled  blandly. 

The  convention  again  proceeded  to  ballot.  Listen  ! 
The  Third  Ward  is  being  called  there  ;  that  is  three 
for  Graham  this  time  from  the  Third,  a  gain  of  one. 
lyisten  !  the  President  is  announcing  the  result.  Third 
ballot : 

Graham 63 

Baxter, 56 

Carter, 50 

Irwin 41 

Necessary  for  a  choice,  106. 
The  convention  again  proceeds  to  ballot.    The  Presi- 
dent again  announces  the  result,   as  follows  :   Fourth 
ballot : 

Graham, 64 

Baxter, 55 

Carter, 50 

Irwin, 41 

At  this  crisis  a  Baxter  delegate  rises  and  moves  the 
convention  adjourn  until  half-past  two  o'clock. 

The  calm  is  a  hurricane  ;  in  an  instant  twenty  dele- 
gates  are   on    their    feet    at   once,    shouting,  "No!" 
"  No  !  "  "  Yes  !  "  "Yes  !  "   at  the  top  of  their  voices. 
"  Question  !  "    "  Question  !  "  etc.     It  is  finally  put. 
The  Baxter  men  and  Irwir   men  seem  to  be  pretty 
unanimous  for  adjournment. 

The  Graham  and  Carter  men  not.  The  vote  is  taken 
"  viva  voice."  "  The  No's  appear  to  have  it ;  the  No's 
have  it,"  says  President  Dowe. 

A  division  was  not  called  for.  The  convention  again 
proceeded  to  ballot. 

A  dead  silence  again  follows  the  storm  while  the  roll 


GATHERING  THE  CROP.  525 

is  being  called ;  all  proceeds  as  usual  until  Spire 
township  is  reached.  The  reading  clerk  calls  "  Daniel 
D.. Sides." 

Hark  !  the  answer,  "  Graham  !  " 
This  was  the  first  break  in  the  Carter  ranks  ;  they 
had  been  serene  under  the  other  ballots,  and  had  just 
voted  against  adjournment.  This  single  vote  was 
unexpected  to  them  and  fell  upon  them  with  a  heavy- 
thud,  which  seemed  to  say,  if  we  expect  to  be  the 
go-between  we  should  not  have  lost  on  this  ballot. 

The  announcement  of  Sides'  vote  was  also  received 
with  cheers  for  Graham  in  the  galler}-,  which  the 
President  endeavored  to  suppress.  The  vote  proceeds 
to  the  end.  Hark  !  the  President  announces  the  result. 
Fifth  ballot : 

Graham, 65 

Baxter, 55 

Carter, 49 

Irwin, 41 

Necessar}'  to  a  choice,  106. 

A  Carter  delegate  now  arose  and  moved  that  the 
convention  adjourn  until  half  past  two  o'clock.  This 
time  the  motion  carried. 

Yes,  Tom,  this  is  the  first  time  the  whole  field  turned 
in  against  you  ;  but  you  have  done  all  that  could  be 
done,  and  shown  good  judgment  in  not  developing 
your  full  strength  on  the  first  ballot.  You  have  kept 
Walter  gaining  one  each  time  ;  but  then  you  have 
thrown  your  last  reserve  into  action  ;  if  the  field  should 
happen  to  organize  against  you  during  the  recess,  Wal- 
ter would  be  lost. 

"  But  then,  we  know,  of  course,  Tom,  that  5'ou  will 
not  be  idle  from  now  until  half-past  two,  any  more 
than  the  rest." 


526  WALTER   GRAHAM,  STATESMAN. 

"Yes,  even  Professor  Baker  has  told  Slybarr  that 
if  his  candidate  for  SheriJ0F  and  Prison  Inspectors  are 
as  reputable  men  as  the  others,  he  will  help  him 
through  on  them." 

Yes,  Tom,  you  understand  there  is  always  a  little 
ring  inside  of  a  ring  ;  and,  now,  if  Swinegate  can  do 
what  he  says  he  can,  3'ou  believe  you  can  capture  the 
convention  j-et  after  dinner,  though  you  would  have 
preferred  it  not  to  have  adjourned. 

After  diimer  has  come  ;  the  convention  has  taken  the 
sixth  ballot.     It  is  precisely  as  the  fifth  : 

Graham, 65 

Baxter 55 

Carter, 49 

Irwin, 41 

Necessary  to  a  choice,  106. 

"  There  has  not  been  much  gained  to  any  one  dur- 
ing the  adjournment,"  begins  to  be  whispered  among 
the  spectators. 

"  This  is  going  to  be  a  long  siege,"  says  one. 

"  The  next  ballot  will  decide  whether  there  is  going 
to  be  any  break  or  not,"  said  another,  who  seemed  to 
look  as  if  he  was  rather  better  informed  than  the  rest. 

The  seventh  ballot  has  commenced  ;  all  parties  are 
in  high  expectancy  now,  including  Tom  Swave.  "Yes, 
this  is  the  ballot  which  is  to  tell  you,  Tom,  whether 
Swinegate  will  do  what  he  has  promised  you,  whether 
he  can  do  what  he  has  promised  you,  or  whether  the 
natural  affinity  between  Baxter  and  Irwin's  followers 
will  prove  stronger  than  the  natural  jealousy  between 
the  two  men  themselves." 

Yes ;  all  these  things,  Tom,  both  you  and  the 
reader  must  think  over  for  yourselves  ;    all  that  the 


GATHERING   THE   CROP.  527 

writer  can  say  at  present  is,  that  when  the  break 
comes  in  political  conventions  the  fragments  do  not 
always  fly  in  the  exact  direction  the  philosophers  pre- 
dicted thc}^  would  ;  and  that  this  case  was  rather  an 
exemplification  of  that  fact. 

Instead  of  Swinegate  being  able  to  deliver  thirty  of 
Irwin's  delegates  over  .solidly  to  Graham,  he  received 
just  fifteen  ;  sixteen  flew  to  Baxter,  and  ten  remained 
loyal  to  Irwin. 

Hark  !  Amid  suppressed  silence,  the  President  is 
announcing  the  seventh  ballot : 

Graham, 80 

Baxter, 71 

Carter 49 

Irwin, 10 

Necessary  for  a  choice,  106. 

Upon  the  announcement  of  this  result,  the  excite- 
ment and  commotion  is  everywhere ;  the  delegates 
hopping  back  and  forth  among  each  other  for  a  final 
dicker  ;  but  order  is  restored  ;  the  convention  again 
proceeds  to  ballot,  and  reached  precisely  the  same 
result.     Eighth  ballot : 

Graham, 80 

Baxter, 71 

Carter, 49 

Irwin, 10 

Necessar}-  for  a  choice,  106. 

"  This  is  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  that  happen,"  said 
one  wise-acre  ;  "  after  one  man's  forces  began  to  break 
the  next  ballot  remained  exactly  the  same." 

"Yes,  but  you  see  Graham  has  still  kept  a  steady 
lead,"  said  another. 


528  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"  Yes,  but  Baxter  gained  more  in  the  break-up  than 
he  did." 

"Yes,"  said  an  old  Dutchman,  "  dis  is  der  mosht 
shtubborn  convention  I  eber  did  see. ' ' 

"Oh!  what  are  you  talking  about,"  said  another 
young  man.  "  Graham's  going  to  get  there  ;  I'll  bet 
you  ten  dollars." 

Now  the  Graham  men  are  moving  to  adjourn  until 
eight  o'clock  this  evening. 

There,  the  motion  is  lost  ;  the  field  is  again  united 
against  him.     Ninth  ballot : 

Graham, 80 

Baxter, 73 

Carter, 47 

Irwin, TO 

Necessary  for  a  choice,  106. 

At  the  close  of  this  ballot,  Tom  vSwave,  amid  the 
wildest  confusion,  again  rose  and  moved  they  take  a 
recess  until  eight  o'clock  this  evening.  Vociferous 
shouts  of  "Yes!  Yes!"  "  No  !  No!"  again  went  forth, 
but  the  motion  carried  this  time  by  a  vote,  120  to  90,  on 
roll  call. 

-  During  this  rece.ss  the  excitement  was  intense,  and 
it  was  useless  to  disguise  the  fact  that  the  Baxter  men 
were  far  more  jubilant  than  they  were  during  the  noon 
adjournment ;  and  the  Graham  men,  secretly,  a  little 
more  depressed.  But  the  triumph  of  the  last  motion 
to  adjourn  was  rather  understood  to  be  their  victory. 

The  feeling  was  now  universal  that  the  evening  ses- 
sion must  decide  it ;  to  carry  an  ordinar}^  congressional 
convention  over  to  the  second  day  would  have  been 
beyond  precedent  in  Jefferson  count3\ 


GATHERING  THE  CROP.  529 

Walter  and  his  friends  looked  upon  the  situation 
now  as  substantially  this  :  the  Carter  people  must  first 
be  convinced  that  he  has  no  chance  to  be  dropped 
to  as  a  compromise  candidate,  and  then  after  that  we 
rest  upon  the  natural  tendenc}"  of  their  people  to  drop 
to  us. 

In  the  evening,  as  the  convention  was  assembling,  a 
long  delegation  with  band  came  marching  through 
the  throng  with  a  transparency  bearing  the  words, 
' '  For  Congress,  Major  Walter  Graham.  Wounded  three 
times  in  the  service  of  his  country.  A  Republican 
from  boyhood." 

When  the  convention  assembled  ever}'  delegate  found 
upon  his  seat  the  following  circular:  "Walter  Gra- 
ham, enlisted  as  a  private  August  1 1,  1861,  in  Company 
B,  Sevent3'-fifth  regiment,  at  the  age  of  eighteen. 
Participated  in  seventeen  engagements  of  the  war, 
inchiding  Fort  Donaldson,  Shiloh,  Chaplain  Hill, 
Vicksburg,  Missionary  Ridge,  Wilderness  and  Cold 
Harbor.  Mustered  out  as  major  January-  27th,  1865, 
for  physical  disability,  caused  b}-  being  shot  through 
the  left  lung  at  Cold  Harbor.  A  thorough  Republican  ; 
a  capable  and  upright  man.  Has  any  candidate 
stronger  claims  before  this  convention?" 

The  flood  tide  outside  and  in  the  galleries,  all,  now 
seemed  to  be  for  Graham  ;  what  effect  it  would  have 
on  stoic  and  practical  delegates  who  were  there  to 
obey  their  masters  and  not  the  hurrahs  of  the  multi- 
tude would  soon  be  tested.  Sufiice  it  to  say,  that  one 
man,  who  did  not  generally  allow  his  impulses  to  run 
awa\^  with  him,  was  heard  to  sa}^  "  There  is  victory  in 
the  air  for  Graham.     They  can't  beat  him." 

23 


530  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"  No;  nor  be  should  not  be  beaten,"  said  another. 
But  we  must  be  brief.    The  convention  is  already 
balloting.     L,isten  to  the  result.     Tenth  ballot : 

Graham, 8i 

Baxter, 75 

Carter 45 

Irwin, 9 

Necessary  for  a  choice,  106. 

Potewright  sends  the  following  note  over  to  Slybarr  : 
' '  Now  is  your  time  to  desert  Graham.     Keep  Baxter  going 
up.     The  Carter  people  will  come  to  us  next  time." 

Potewright. 

Tom  Swave  got  up,  walked  across  the  room  to  the 
Adams  township  delegation,  shook  his  head  ominously 
at  Slybarr,  and  whispered  something  to  Jack  Matson, 
one  of  the  other  delegates,  whereupon  Jack  turned  a 
savage  look  upon  Slybarr,  and  said,  "  Remember  Pat. 
McKnight;"  and  Slybarr,  remembering  Pat.  McKnight, 
looked  at  Jack  with  a  grim  smile,  consigned  Pote- 
wright to  a  region  of  eternal  heat,  and  said,  "  Whj', 
of  course,  I  am  all  right  for  Graham  to  the  last ;  I  am 
a  man  of  my  word."  And  just  then  a  voice  from  the 
platform  shouted  out:  "  Remember -Cold  Harbor." 
And  just  then  the  reading  clerk  was  calling  Adams 
township  for  the  next  ballot,  and  Professor  Baker 
arose  and  said  : 

' '  Mr.  President,  we  have  not  forgotten  '  Cold  Har- 
bor.'    My  vote  is  always  Graham y 

And  just  then  one  spontaneous  yell  broke  forth  from 
the  audience,  followed  by  three  cheers  for  Graham. 

While  the  rest  of  the  delegation  ^vas  voting  for  Gra- 
ham, Slybarr  included,  with  only  Andover  borough  to 
come  before  Becker  township.     President  Dowe  stepped 


GATHERING   THK   CROI*.  531 

back  a  few  paces  on  the  platform  and  whispered  in 
the  ear  of  Evans,  the  editor  of  the  Merairy,  "We 
may  as  well  settle  this  matter  right  now,  I  reckon." 
"  Go  ahead,"  nodded  Evans. 

Becker  township  is  already  called. 

"  George  F.  Dowe,"  cries  out  the  reading  clerk. 

The  audience  has  become  accustomed  to  the  answer 
—"Carter." 

But  behold  !  President  Dowe  is  just  stepping  back 
to  his  chair.  He  answers  in  clear,  distinct  tones, 
"  Graham." 

Again  a  loud  yell  goes  up  from  the  audience  as  the 
other  two  delegates  from  the  convention  follow  suit. 

"That  settles  it,"  says  Tom's  brother  delegate  from 
the  Fifth  Ward,  "let  us  send  word  immediately  to 
Graham." 

"Yes,  that  decides  it,"  replied  Tom,  "but  don't 
start  the  messenger  until  after  the  vote  is  over." 

The  rest  of  the  ballot  proceeded  amid  a  silence  that 
was  eloquent,  a  suspense  that  was  terrible. 

When  the  ballot  is  being  taken  after  a  long  contest 
in  a  nominating  convention,  which  everybody  feels  is  the 
decisive  one,  the  seconds  are  hours.  The  hearts  of  can- 
didate and  friend  are  palpitating  like  that  of  the  j'oung 
lover  who  awaits  the  whispered  answer  from  the  lips 
of  the  maiden,  like  the  soldier  who  awaits  the  next 
command  that  is  to  plunge  him  into  the  thickest  of 
the  fight,  like  the  drowning  man  who  waits  for  the 
rescue  boat  to  arrive. 

Especially  now,  when  the  vote  is  running  closer 
than  they  thought  after  all.  Yes,  it  may  take  another 
ballot  yet.  The  Carter  men  are  not  breaking  as  gen- 
erally as  was  expected. 


582  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

They  are  two-thirds  the  way  down  the  list  now.  Yes, 
this  ballot  is  going  to  do  it,  after  all. 

Hark  !  The  President  is  announcing  it.     Eleventh 

ballot : 

Graham, ......113 

Baxter 81 

Carter, 11 

Irwin 5 

Necessary  to  a  choice,  106. 

"Major  Graham  having  received  113  votes,  I  now 
declare  him  the  nominee  of  this  convention  for  Con- 
gress. ' ' 

No  sooner  had  these  words  fallen  from  President 
Dowe's  lips,  and  the  applause  subsided,  than  one  of 
Baxter's  delegates  rose,  and  in  a  husky  and  subdued 
voice  moved  that  the  nomination  of  Major  Graham  be 
made  unanimous.  It  was  promptly  seconded  by  both 
an  Irwin  and  a  Carter  man  and  passed  with  the  usual 
formality.  While  Walter's  friends  made  a  rush  to  his 
office  to  tender  their  congratulations. 

In  the  midst  of  the  throng  he  turned  to  his  desk,  and 
wrote  : 

"Dear  Blanch  : — All  right ;  I  was  nominated  on  the  eleventh 
ballot,  receiving  113  votes,  7  more  than  necessary. 

Walter.  ' ' 

Sealing  it  in  an  envelope,  and  addressing  it,  he 
handed  it  to  the  messenger  boy,  saying,  "  Take  that  to 
Mrs.  Graham,  immediately." 

The  reader  has,  of  course,  understood  all  along  that 
this  district  has  a  safe  Republican  majority.  That  this 
nomination  is  therefore  equivalent  to  an  election. 

Yes,  Walter,  the  long  contest  is  over.  You  are  a 
Congressman.  The  dream  3'ou  spoke  of  in  the  old  stone 
school  house,  twenty-two  years  ago,  is  realized.     As 


GATHERING  THK   CROP.  533 

you  spoke  it  then,  ambitious  youth  of  thirteen,  your 
eyes  looked  up  and  met  Maggie  Bernard's.  As  you 
realize  it  now,  sturdy  man  of  thirty-five,  you  already 
wonder  if  the  game  has  been  worth  the  hunt.  You 
only  know  for  sure,  that  in  the  midst  of  all  these 
congratulations  3'our  heart  goes  up  in  that  envelope 
with  all  the  avidity  of  a  wooer  to  Blanch.  You  release 
5'ourself  from  your  friends  as  soon  as  you  gracefully 
can,  and  start  for  the  house.  The  town  clock  has  just 
struck  midnight.  Blanch  is  still  sitting  by  the  half 
open  door  that  opens  out  to  the  little  side  porch,  while 
the  light  burns  low  within  ;  as  she  basks  in  the  soft 
June  air,  and  li.stens  to  the  hum  of  the  insects  among 
the  trees,  she  hears  your  footsteps  on  the  pavement. 

The  door  opens,  she  rushes  into  your  arms,  saying, 
"  Well,  old  boy,  you're  a  Congressman  at  last." 

"Yes,  Blanch,  a  Congressman  at  last;  and  now, 
will  I  ever  be  a  statesman  f  ' ' 

"Yes,  Walter,  if  you  only  avoid  being  a  politician. 
Only  '  mind  the  Light '  as  your  good  mother  says." 


CHAPTER     XXX. 

THE  AFTERMA  TH. 

TT 7 ALTER  GRAHAM  did  not  get  to  his  office 
^  ^  quite  as  early  as  usual  the  next  morning.  As 
it  was  after  one  o'clock  before  he  and  Blanch  retired, 
he  was  not  in  a  hurry  to  rise  ;  even  then  there  still 
seemed  to  be  a  great  man}'  things  to  talk  over  at  the 
breakfast  table,  which  detained  him  still  longer. 

But,  late  as  he  was,  he  found  he  was  in  ample  time 
to  meet  the  delegates  and  men  who  had  championed 
his  cause,  if  it  had  been  they  alone  who  were  coming 
to  tender  their  congratulations. 

The  convention,  which,  as  the  Dutchman  said,  had 
been  ' '  the  most  stubborn  they  ever  did  see, ' '  had 
resolved  to  finish  its  labors  the  night  before  without 
adjournment. 

It  was,  therefore,  ten  minutes  of  two  o'clock  when 
they  had  nominated  their  county  and  other  officers 
and  were  ready  for  adjournment. 

The  political  gladiators  had  retired  worn  and  ex- 
hausted. No  one  seemed  in  a  hurry  to  rouse  them 
from  their  slumbers  to  congratulate  them  on  their 
part  of  the  work. 

Thus  Tom  Swave,  and  Birdie,  and  Boyd,  and 
the  Captain,  as  well  as  Potewright  and  Swinegate, 
were  still  sleeping  at  9  o'clock  In  fact,  practical  poli- 
ticians do  not,  as  a  rule,  care  so  much  about  congratu- 
lations as  they  do  about  success  itself ;  give  them  votes 
when  they  are  in  distress  and  they  will  not  quarrel 
about  the  applause  of  the  platform. 


THE    AFTERMATH.  535 

As  for  Tom,  he  was  only  acting  on  Napoleon's 
maxim,  "The  news  being  good,  I  prefer  to  sleep  on; 
it  is  only  when  it  is  bad  that  I  desire  to  be  awak- 
ened." 

But  the  friends  who  were  already  calling  on  Walter 
when  he  reached  his  office,  were  Rev.  Mr.  Barnes, 
Professor  Paist,  of  the  High  School,  a  few  merchants 
and  tradesmen,  and  some  of  the  older  members  of  the 
bar,  who  made  no  pretence  at  politics. 

He  had  already  received,  the  evening  before,  con- 
gatulatory  messages  from  all  the  other  candidates  for 
the  office,  couched  in  polite  but  formal  language,  con- 
ceding his  victory  fairly  won,  and  promising  him  their 
hearty  support  at  the  general  contest. 

He  looked  over  the  morning  papers  to  see  their 
various  comments.  That  of  the  Herald  read  as  fol- 
lows :  "The  convention  yesterday,  after  a  long  and 
persistent,  but  orderly,  contest,  nominated  Major  Wal- 
ter Graham  for  Congress  on  the  eleventh  ballot.  It  is 
useless  for  the  He7-ald  to  say  that  the  nomination  is 
a  strong  one  and  will  receive  the  hearty  indorsement 
of  every  Republican  in  the  district.  The  people  all 
know  that  fact  without  our  reminding  them  of  it. 
Personall}^  we  are  sorry  for  our  old  friend  Baxter,  but, 
beyond  that,  the  Herald  always  did  sympathize  with 
Graham,  and  recognized  his  strong  claims.  We  are 
content,  and  are  for  the  whole  ticket." 

The  Merctiry  said  :  "  Yesterday's  convention  was  the 
most  memorable  that  Jefferson  county  has  witnessed 
for  thirty  years.  The  quadrangular  shape  which 
the  contest  for  Congress  assumed,  the  disintegration 
of  elements  that  should  have  been  for  Mr.  Carter,  has 
lost  to  us  the  ability  and  experience  which  he  would 
have  brought  to  us  and  to  the  district. 


536  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"Because  of  his  riper  years  and  more  mature  judg- 
ment, the  Mercury  had  hoped  that  he  might  be  made 
the  candidate  ;  and  with  a  fairly  drawn  contest  against 
either  Baxter  or  Irwin,  or  both,  he  would  have  been. 
Mr.  Carter  has  the  comfort,  however,  of  knowing  that 
while  his  defeat  was  compassed  by  an  unfortunate  com- 
bination of  circumstances,  and  b}-  methods  that  need 
not  be  mentioned,  his  own  character  is  unsoiled. 

"Against  the  3-oung  man  who  secured  the  nomination 
we  have  naught  to  say  ;  he  brought  to  his  support  a 
high  personal  character,  and  a  generous  sentiment 
which  his  services  to  his  country  well  deserved.  We 
trust  and  believe  he  will  make  a  creditable  member  of 
Congress. ' ' 

The  Age,  the  Democratic  organ  of  the  county,  and 
the  one  which  reported  Walter's  Shocktown  speech 
eighteen  years  before,  said  :  "  The  Republican  conven- 
tion, yesterday,  after  a  long  and  disgraceful  wrangle, 
nominated  for  Congress,  Major  Walter  Graham.  He 
is,  comparatively,  a  young  man  of  about  thirty -five,  a 
lawyer  of  fair  ability,  with  a  creditable  soldier  record. 

"His  chief  element  of  strength,  however,  over  the 
other  older  and  abler  candidates  before  the  convention 
was,  that  he  is  married  to  a  rich  wife,  and  conse- 
quently able  to  subscribe  liberally  to  all  the  brass 
band  delegations  and  other  contingent  campaign  funds 
so  essential  to  Republican  success." 

The  Frankliji  News,  the  Republican  organ  of  Frank- 
lin county,  said  :  "The  Republican  convention  of  Jef- 
ferson count}^  did  its  work  yesterday  faithfully  and 
well.  The  contest  was  earnest,  running  through  three 
sessions  of  the  convention,  but,  withal,  in  good  feeling. 

"No  better,  no  more  satisfactory  choice  to  the  Repub- 


THE   AFTERMATH.  537 

licans  of  this  county  could  have  been  made.     Our  con- 
ferrees  will  ratify  the  nominations  without  demur. 

"Major  Graham,  though  only  in  his  thirty-sixth  year, 
is  not  unknown  to  the  people  of  Franklin  county.  He 
was  here  as  one  of  the  attorneys  in  the  Watts  case,  in 
our  court ;  and  his  voice  has  been  heard  in  various 
places  throughout  her  borders  in  behalf  of  Republican 
principles.  And  more  than  that,  we  have  soldiers 
here  in  our  town,  who  were  with  the  young  Major  at 
Shiloh,  at  Vicksburg,  the  Wilderness,  and  elsewhere, 
who  know  of  his  sterling  qualities  as  a  soldier.  He  is 
of  the  class  of  men  the  Republican  party  delights  to 
honor. 

"All  hail,  Major  Graham  !  for  he  shall  be  our  Con- 
gressman hereafter." 

As  Walter  picked  up  each  paper  to  read  its  com- 
ments, he  thought  to  himself,  "  I  am  no  longer  a  sen- 
sitive boy  of  seventeen,  and  must  be  ready  to  take  with 
perfect  composure  whatever  comes.  Every  candidate 
for  public  office  in  this  countr}-  must  expect  to  pass 
under  the  ordeal  of  public  criticism,  free  competition 
and  newspaper  satire.  While  my  honor  and  character 
are  safe,  as,  thank  God,  I  know  they  are,  and  my 
name  unconnected  with  any  public  scandal,  they  may 
say  what  they  please.  I  will  not  allow  it  to  annoy  me 
in  the  least  "  Indeed,  as  he  laid  each  paper  down,  he 
thought  its  tone  was  quite  as  friendly  and  kind  as  he 
had  any  right  to  expect  ;  including  even  that  of  the 
Age,  which  he  knew  would  have  had  some  good- 
natured  satire  to  poke  at  the  party  and  the  candidate, 
no  difference  who  he  might  have  been. 

And  yet,  the  more  he  read  over  the  words  of  the  Age, 
the  more  he  thought,  "  I  wish  they  had  not  made  that 


538  WALTER  GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

reference  to  Blanch.  Of  course,  I  suppose  thej'  mean 
nothing  by  it.  But  still,  why  need  they  have  alluded  to 
it?  I  guess  I  will  just  throw  the  paper  into  the  waste 
basket,  and  perhaps  she  will  never  see  it.  Oh,  no  ! 
She  is  a  full  grown  woman,  as  I  am  a  man — let  her  see 
it  along  with  the  rest.  I  wonder,  however,  if  that  is 
the  way  the  public  look  upon  me,  as  simply  a  mere 
nobody,  living  on  the  income  of  a  rich  wife.  Pshaw  ! 
I  hate  it  on  Blanch's  account.  I  hope  she  will  not  be 
sensitive  about  it." 

At  the  dinner  hour,  as  Blanch  read  over  these  com- 
ments, she  said,  "Why,  Walter,  the  papers  are  all 
quite  complimentary  to  you  ;  even  the  Ag-e,  which  has 
been  kind  enough  to  remember  me." 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  Walter,  smiling  ;  "I  was  won- 
dering how  you  would  enjoy  your  part  of  the  compli- 
ment. ' ' 

"Oh,  it  don't  worry  me  in  the  least,  Walter,  if  it 
don't  you." 

"Ah,  Blanch,  you  always  were  the  most  sensible 
girl." 

"Well,  I  suppose  since  the  Age  knows  so  much 
about  our  business,  and  I  am  supposed  to  subscribe 
my  share,  that  note  of  Tom  Swave's  for  one  thousand 
dollars  may  as  well  be  thrown  into  the  fire." 

"Yes,  Blanch,"  replied  Walter,  still  smiling,  "that 
note  may  as  well  be  thrown  into  the  fire,"  and  they  both 
went  trippingly  out  to  dinner. 

After  dinner  Blanch  followed  Walter  into  the  library 
and  said,  "  Walter,  I  don't  like  that  article  in  the  Ag-e ; 
it  does  annoy  me." 

' '  Why  ? ' '  said  Walter. 

"  Oh,  because  I  do  not  like  it  on  your  account.    I  do 


THE   AFTERMATH.  539 

dislike  anything  that  seems  to  make  me  more  promi- 
nent than  you." 

"  Will  you  not  let  me  just  make  the  deed  of  the  home 
here  to  you  at  once  ?  And  one  of  those  houses  on  Grant 
street,  else  that  farm  in  Adams  township?  I  would 
sooner  have  it  appear  that  you  own  most  of  the  real 
estate." 

Walter  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  saying,  "No,  no, 
Blanch,  you  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind  ;  we  know  our 
own  business,  and  it  don't  concern  us  what  the  world 
thinks  about  it ;  besides,  have  not  I  as  much  right  to 
be  proud  of  your  individuality  of  character  and  stand- 
ing in  the  community  as  you  have  of  mine." 

"Yes,  but  I  do  dislike  these  things  that- make  it 
look  as  though  I  were  running  the  business,"  said 
Blanch,  half  poutingly. 

"Oh,  well,  don't  I  own  real  estate  of  my  own?" 
said  Walter,  laughing  again  as  he  released  her  from  his 
grasp,  and  began  to  start.  "  Look  at  that  old  shop  in 
Shocktown  that  Dave  and  I  own  in  partnership  ;  and 
those  two  houses  I  bought  in  Shilp  alley  last  winter  at 
sheriffs  sale,"  and  he  began  looking  for  his  hat. 

"Yes,  and  you  only  bought  them  to  help  other 
people  out  of  difficulty,"  replied  Blanch. 

"  Well,  you  know  that  is  very  different  from  the  way 
you  do  business  yourself,"  replied  Walter,  with  a 
good-natured  satire  which  she  well  understood. 

"Well,  I  do  hate  it  anyhow,"  replied  Blanch,  as 
Walter  passed  through  the  door.  "  That  old  mean 
Democratic  Age,  it  made  fun  of  you  twenty  years 
ago,"  and  her  eyes  followed  him  as  he  walked  down 
the  street. 

When  Walter  reached  his  office  he  found  Swinegate 


540  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

in  waiting.  The}'  had  never  spent,  all  told,  ten  min- 
utes of  their  lives  in  social  conversation  with  each 
other  before  ;  but  the  latter  was  there  now  for  the  pur- 
pose of  telling  Walter  how  he  alwa3's  had  admired  his 
course  and  valued  his  friendship,  and  what  an  effort  he 
had  made  to  prevent  Irwin  from  being  a  candidate  in 
the  first  place,  and  what  personal  sacrifices  he  had 
made  to  get  so  large  a  portion  of  Irwin's  delegates  to 
finally  go  for  him. 

Swinegate  had  gone  but  a  few  minutes,  when  Pote- 
wright  appeared  to  congratulate  him  on  his  gallant 
fight,  and  to  assure  him  that  they  only  stuck  to  Baxter 
as  long  as  they  did,  because  the  Carter  people  had 
betrayed  them  ;  that  they  still  promised  them  each 
ballot  they  would  come  to  Baxter  next  time,  thereby 
giving  them  hope  to  the  last.  Whereupon  he  assured 
Walter  that  he  and  Baxter  had  both  resolved  to  go  for 
him  at  any  moment,  if  either  of  the  other  candidates 
gave  evidences  of  winning. 

Walter  received  both  these  chieftains  politely,  and 
listened  courteously  to  their  explanations  ;  but,  trust- 
ing as  his  nature  had  been  in  childhood,  he  could  not 
help  but  smile  incredulously  after  each  had  left  the 
office.  He  endeavored  to  settle  down  once  more  to 
work . 

An  hour  later,  when  he  related  these  experiences  to 
Tom  Swave,  the  latter  shook  his  head  and  smiled  a 
very  expressive  smile,  as  he  said,  "  They  were  both 
burning  with  a  desire  to  be  for  you  at  the  proper  time, 
were  they  ? ' ' 

"  It  appears  so,"  replied  Walter. 

"  I  will  tell  3'ou,  Walter,  just  now  while  I  think  of 
it,"  continued  Tom,  "  what  might  be  borne  in  mind.    If 


THK   AFTKRMATH.  541 

that  postmaster  at  Spireville,  who  is  supposed  to  be 
now  lying  on  his  death- bed,  should  die,  it  might  be 
well  enough  to  consult  Dan.  Sides  before  his  successor 
is  appointed." 

"Well,  I  suppose  we  will  try  to  be  guided  by  the 
proper  equities  of  the  case  when  it  arrives,"  replied 
Walter  ;  "  at  all  events,  I  suppose  the  appointment  will 
hardly  be  made  without  your  knowing  something  about 
it.  But,  by  the  way,  Tom,  what  can  I  do  for  you 
yourself? " 

Tom  looked  at  him  with  an  earnest  expression,  which 
Walter  well  understood  was  Tom's  earnest  side,  not  to 
say  sad  one,  as  he  replied,  "Get  me  a  consulship,  to 
New  Zealand,  to  Australia,  or  any  other  English-speak- 
ing province  with  pay  enough  attached  to  it  to  keep 
me  alive." 

"  Wh5\  Tom,  you  don't  mean  that,  do  you?  " 

"Yes,  I  do.  I  want  to  get  out  of  the  country; 
good-by.  I  will  talk  further  with  you  about  it  some 
other  time." 

Of  course,  3-ou  all  know  what  the  nature  of  the  edi- 
torial in  the  Press  was  the  next  Saturday  morning.  It 
spoke  of  the  nominee  as  a  "young  man  in  the  prime 
of  life,  with  far  more  than  ordinary  ability,  self-poised, 
just  and  honest ;  modest  in  victorj%  calm  in  defeat ; 
thorough  in  research  ;  and  possessing  all  the  elements 
of  the  successful  representative,  who  should  be  con- 
tinued indefinitely." 

But  it  was  that  same  Saturday  morning  when  Walter 
opened  his  mail  that  he  found  among  it  the  congratu- 
lation which  he  appreciated,  perhaps,  most  of  all.  It 
was  as  follows : 


542  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Martin's  Cross  Roads,  June  6,  1878. 
Friend  Walter  : 

Perhaps  you  will  not  consider  it  too  much  trouble  to  read  a 
few  congratulatory  lines  from  your  old  friend,  who  may  not  be 
able  to  see  you  personally. 

The  success  which  has  attended  your  career  is,  in  my 
opinion,  not  unmerited,  and  I  believe,  will  contiuue  with  you  as 
long  as  you  remain  true  to  your  principles  and  conduct  your- 
self properl^^ 

I  can  scarcely  realize,  Walter,  that  you  were  yesterday  nomi- 
nated for  Congress  ;  for  it  seems  to  me  but  yesterday-  since  I 
saw  you  stirring  about  the  neighborhood  a  boj'  in  your  teens, 
and  listening  attentively  at  times  to  your  father  and  some  of 
us  discussing  so  interestedly  the  momentous  questions  which 
have  since  convulsed  the  nation. 

Indeed,  I  sometimes  think  yet,  Walter,  those  questions  are 
the  only  ones  which  create  politics  in  our  country  ;  the  right  of 
the  enfranchised  race  to  his  vote  in  the  South,  is,  in  my 
opinion,  the  prominent  question  in  American  politics,  and  will 
become  the  supreme  test  of  our  greatest  statesmen,  to  which 
plane  I  hope  you  may  rise.  At  present,  let  me  caution  you,  my 
boy,  steer  clear  of  the  Greenback  craze,  which  seems  to  be  start- 
ing over  the  country-.  You  can  afford  to  be  defeated  at  the 
election,  if  it  should  come  to  that,  but  you  cannot  afford  to  tem- 
porize with  repudiation,  which  is  really  the  proper  name  for 
unlimited  paper  money. 

But  you  will  excuse  me,  Walter,  for  not  writing  more,  and 
for  calling  you  my  boy ;  it  seems  so  natural.  I  am  obliged  to 
remember  occasionally  that  I  am  an  old  man,  seventy-five 
years  old,  and  do  not  get  around  as  much  as  I  once  did,  though 
I  have  no  reason  to  complain  of  my  general  health. 

Our  little  eleven-year-old  grandson  seeius  to  be  the  chief 
man  about  the  place  now ;  he  and  I,  between  us,  manage  to 
take  care  of  the  horse  and  cow. 

Mrs.  Williamson  joins  in  her  congratulations,  and  both  of  us 
would  be  pleased  to  see  you,  if  but  for  a  few  minutes,  if  you 
come  out  to  your  father's  this  summer. 

If  we  live  until  the  20th  of  November,  we  will  celebrate  our 
golden  wedding.  I  am,  yours  very  truly, 

John  Wii<tiAMSON. 


THK   AFTERMATH.  543 

This  letter  was  answered  as  follows  : 

Sharwood,  June  8,  1878. 
My  Dear  Old  Friend  : 

I  wish  I  could  tell  you  how  much  good  your  letter  has  done 
me  ;  and  how  I  hope  to  profit  by  every  word  of  it.  That  I 
endorse  the  sentiments  you  express,  as  to  the  political  situation 
of  the  country,  is  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  say,  who  sat  as  a 
boy  so  attentively  atyour  feet  and  imbibed  so  thoroughly  your 
political  gospel. 

Yes,  Mr.  Williamson,  I  remember  very  distinctly,  one  beauti- 
ful Sunday  afternoon  when  you  alluded  to  yourself  then  as  "old 
John  Williamson,"  though  only  fifty-seven,  and  prophesied  that 
if  I  lived  to  be  as  old  as  3'ou  I  would  see  a  war  in  this  country 
on  the  slavery  question. 

Alas,  what  has  happened  since  then  ?  It  is  not  much  wonder 
that  we  old  people  of  thirty-five  and  seventy-five  begin  to  tell 
our  children  and  grandchildren  that  a  good  deal  has  happened 
since  we  were  young. 

Blanch  joins  me  in  sa^-ing  that  we  will  visit  you  next  month 
when  we  are  out  at  father's. 

Trusting  that  I  may  not  disappoint  my  friends  in  the  new 
position  I  am  to  assume,  and  that  you  and  Mrs.  W.  may  not 
only  be  spared  until  November,  but  for  many  more  returns 
of  that  eventful  day,  I  subscribe  m3'self, 

Yours  very  truly, 

Walter  Graham. 


%F^^ 


CHAPTER     XXXI. 


THE  SECOND  REIWKXW. 


TT  IS  the  2Sth  of  February,  1881.  The  House  has 
^  adjourned  until  Tuesday  morning.  Walter  Gra- 
ham is  reclining  on  the  lounge  reading  a  paper  in  the 
library  of  his  comfortable  though  not  palatial  residence, 
in  Washington.  It  is  four  da3'S  3'et  until  the  4th  of 
March,  but  Washington  is  already  beginning  to  put  on 
her  inaugural  appearance. 

That  quadrennial  event  which  brings  to  her  streets 
all  the  wise  and  patriotic  men  of  the  nation  is  near  at 
hand. 

That  event  brings  to  Washington,  as  some  reader 
has  already  said  in  satire,  "That  innumerable  horde 
of  patriots  who  have  rendered  some  inestimable 
service  to  their  party,  are  coming  to  the  inaugura- 
tion to  see  that  those  services  are  properly  appreciated ; 
to  remind  an  incoming  administration  that  the  first 
and  most  urgent  business  on  hand  is  to  provide  for 
them  some  good  lucrative  place  in  some  of  the  depart- 
ments." Before  this  grand  army  of  devotees  get 
through  with  their  work  of  inaugurating  a  new  Presi- 
dent, the}'  are,  many  of  them,  quite  glad  to  secure  a 
place  to  lay  their  heads  and  leave  the  place  in  the 
Treasury  Department  or  Interior  Department  go  for 
the  present.  For  the  hotel  proprietor  looks  over  his 
registry  and  sees  the  long  list  of  distinguished  arrivals 
from  distant  parts,  while  the  agents  of  various  delega- 
tions are  around  him  searching  for  comfortable  quarters. 


THE   SKCOND    REUNION.  545 

and  begins  to  decide  rapidly  in  his  mind  how  much  he 
will  advance  rates,  as  he  announces  "the  house  is 
full."  The  boarding-house  mistress  beholds  the  great 
overflow  and  smiles  complacentl3\  All  the  clerks  who 
have  already  soft  places  in  the  departments,  have 
received  letters  from  friends  in  the  States  to  know  if 
they  will  have  a  spare-bed ;  and  they  laugh  out 
right  as  they  conceive  the  idea  of  turning  an  extra 
penny. 

What  matters  it  that  the  President  has  not  yet  arrived 
himself,  and  will  not  be  there  until  Wednesday  ?  The 
preparation  will  go  on  all  the  same  ;  for,  though  clouds, 
and  darkness,  and  snow  drifts,  may  lie  before  him,  the 
great  Pennsylvania  Railroad  will  get  him  there  in  time. 
Though  hail  storms  and  rain  storms  may  sweep  along 
old  Pennsylvania  Avenue  on  the  following  Friday,  the 
President  will  be  inaugurated  all  the  same  ;  the  ardor 
of  patriots  ma}-  be  a  little  chilled,  but  the  office-seeker 
will  go  on  forever,  and  the  government  at  Washington 
will  still  live. 

The  official  breath  has  not  expired  from  the  departing 
President  until  it  is  inhaled  by  his  successor.  "The 
King  never  dies,"  says  the  English  maxim. 

There  is  in  the  official  world  an  instantaneous  trans- 
migration of  souls.  No  difference  if  the  expiring  Presi- 
dent is  detained  a  few  minutes  late  at  his  room  in  the 
Capitol  affixing  his  signature  to  important  bills,  which 
are  being  ground  out  at  the  rate  of  twenty  an  hour 
during  the  expiring  hours  of  Congress,  he  must  have 
time  to  read  their  titles  and  write  his  name  as  the 
messengers  run  breathless  to  him  with  the  last  legisla- 
tive hand  work.  If  the  worst  should  come  to  the 
worst,  the  hands  on  the  clock  can  be  stopped  for  five 


546  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

minutes  before  the  speaker  lets  his  gavel  fall  and  says, 

"  I  declare  the  forty-sixth  Congress  adjourned,  sine 
die.''  No  fine  technicalities  will  ever  rise  up  to  test 
the  constitutionality  of  these  laws,  for  the  most  of  them 
are  appropriation  bills,  and,  of  course,  the  faithful  ser- 
vants of  the  people  must  be  paid.  What  motive  could 
anyone  possibly  hav^e  for  testing  their  legality.  Even  the 
Judges  of  the  Supreme  Court  themselves  have  been 
guilty  of  drawing  their  pay. 

With  these  scenes  incident  to  Washington  life  Hon. 
Walter  Graham  had  become  tolerably  well  acquainted, 
as  he  reclined  that  Monday  evening  on  his  sofa  ;  for,  be 
it  remembered,  it  was  the  first  Monday  of  December, 
1879,  that  he  first  made  his  official  appearance  in  the 
House  of  Representatives  as  a  member  thereof. 

Of  the  fifteen  months  that  had  since  elapsed,  he 
had  spent  the  greater  part  in  Washington.  The 
interval  which  occurred  between  the  adjournment 
of  the  long  session  the  previous  summer,  and  the  con- 
vening of  the  present  short  session,  he  had  devoted 
largely  to  the  election  of  General  Garfield,  whose 
inauguration  as  President  was  now  about  to  take  place. 

Walter  had  become  acquainted  with  Garfield  the 
previous  session  as  a  brother  member  of  the  House  ; 
he  had  seen  him  leave  his  seat  the  previous  June  for  a 
short  time  as  leader  of  the  Ohio  delegation  to  champion 
the  cause  of  John  Sherman  for  President  in  the  Chicago 
convention  ;  he  saw  him  come  back  after  the  most 
memorable  political  convention  ever  assembled  on  this 
continent  (except  only  the  one  alluded  to  in  Chapter 
V),  the  nominee  of  that  convention  himself.  He 
was  now  to  see  him  inaugurated  the  following  Friday 
as  President  of  the  United  States. 


THK  SECOND   REUNION.  547 

But,  when  Walter  arrived  in  Washington  on  the  ist 
of  December,  1879,  for  the  purpose  of  assuming  his 
official  duties,  the  first  member  of  the  house  who  came 
to  greet  him  was  Andrew  Jackson  Clinton,  from  North 
Carolina. 

Since  the  meeting  of  Clinton  and  Walter  referred  to 
in  Chapter  XXIV,  there  had  been  maintained  between 
them  a  constant  business  and  professional  intercourse 
as  well  as  the  same  warm  personal  feeling  which  had 
always  existed.  They  met  each  other  on  the  occasion 
referred  to — of  Walter's  first  appearance  as  a  member 
of  Congress — with  the  most  mutual  good  feeling  ;  but 
Walter  could  not  refrain  from  saying,  "Well,  Clinton, 
if  I  had  been  told,  the  day  the  news  reached  us  at  Ann 
Arbor  of  Lee's  surrender,  that  you  would  have  pre- 
ceded me  two  years  as  a  member  of  Congress,  I  would 
at  least  have  said  that  is  the  word  of  a  dreamer." 

"Well,  I  must  say,  I  would  have  looked  upon  it  a 
little  in  that  light  myself,  Graham  ;  but  you  don't 
regret  it,  do  you  ?  You  were  for  universal  amnesty 
from  the  start,  you  remember." 

"  Yes,  I  was,  and  I  don't  regret  your  being  here  in 
Congress  in  advance  of  me ;  but  I  do  insist  that  impar- 
tial suffrage  shall  be  scrupulously  observed  a:nong 
you.  You  can  expect  no  permanent  peace  or  lasting 
prosperity  to  your  section  until  that  requirement  is 
complied  with." 

But  it  is  not  necessary  to  detain  ourselves  now  to  tell 
all  their  conversation  then.  It  is  to  this  evening  of  the 
28th  of  February,  1881,  that  we  will  now  confine  our- 
selves, for  it  is  of  Clinton  also  that  we  have  some- 
what to  speak, 

Blanch  has  just  entered  the  room  where  Walter  is 


548  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

resting,  and  said,  "Then  Clinton  will  be  here  to-night 
too,  will  he,  Walter?" 

"That  is  the  arrangement." 

"Do  you  think  you  can  get  that  business  entirely 
closed  up  to-night?  "  continued  Blanch. 

"That  is  the  idea,"  replied  Walter,  "we  want  to 
have  the  papers  finally  executed.  Will,  has  tele- 
graphed nie,  you  know,  that  he  and  Emma  will  be 
here  at  7:30." 

Will,  and  Emma,  who  were  they  ?  Will.  Morton 
and  his  wife,  Emma  Reed  Morton. 

The  provision  that  Mr.  Morton  had  made  in  his  will 
for  Mrs.  Reed  and  her  daughter  was  subsequently 
altered,  for  they  were  otlierwi.se  provided  for,  and 
entirely  to  his  satisfaction. 

The  bright  June  day,  on  which  Blanch  brought  him 
a  son-in-law,  was  swiftly  followed  by  a  chill  November 
one  on  which  Will,  brought  him  a  daughter-in-law; 
and  he  was  content.  The  son  and  the  son-in-law,  the 
daughter  and  the  daughter-Tn-law,  are  all  seated  around 
the  son-in-law's  table  this  evening,  consummating  their 
business.  Clinton,  also,  is  there,  with  his  budget  of 
papers  swelling  the  pile  Will.  Morton  brought  with 
him.  It  is  half-past  nine;  the  business  is  completed; 
the  notary  gone. 

vStrange  transition!  The  fee-simple  of  Mount  Airy 
is  now  in  Mrs.  Sarah  Reed,  widow  of  George  Wash- 
ington Reed,  deceased ;  her  daughter  Emma  Reed 
Morton  (wife  of  Will.  Morton)  and  Walter  Graham. 

Yes,  the  business  is  over.  Now  for  a  little  socia- 
bility. 

"Well,  how  did  you  leave  all  the  folks  up  about 
Mansdale  and  Shocktown,  Emma?"  inquired  Clinton  ; 
' '  how  is  your  mother  now  ? ' ' 


THE   SECOND   REUNION.  549 

"  Oh,  mother  is  real  well ;  she  had  almost  a  mind  to 
come  with  us  to  Washington." 

' '  I  wish  she  had  done  so  ;  I  reckon  she  will  get 
down  to  North  Carolina  next  summer,  will  she,  to  see  the 
old  place,  since  she  has  such  a  personal  interest  in  it?  " 

"  Oh,  I  shouldn't  wonder;  strange  things  have  hap- 
pened ;  she  used  to  sa}-  she  never  wanted  to  see  the 
place  again  ;  but  that  revives  unpleasant  memories,  and 
besides,  our  feelings  have  undergone  a  considerable 
change  since  then." 

"  Oh  yes,  you  all  seem  to  be  too  happy  and  comfort- 
ably fixed  in  life  now,  to  think  of  anything  unpleasant. 
Do  you  know,  I  often  think  of  that  pleasant  day  we  had 
together  on  the  occasion  of  the  marriage  of  Walter's 
sister  ?  ' ' 

"  Wasn't  that  a  lovely  time  ?"  exclaimed  Emma  and 
Blanch  in  concert  ;  "  especially  the  toasts." 

' '  What  became  of  the  bride  and  groom  ?  ' '  asked 
Clinton.  "  Has  Mr.  Miller  become  famous  like  yourself, 
Graham  ? ' ' 

"Acquired  all  the  fame  he  wants,  I  guess,"  replied 
Walter.  ' '  His  ambitions  are  not  as  lofty  as  those  of 
the  rest  of  us.  You  know  there  have  to  be  some  quiet 
stay-at-home  people  in  the  world,  who  mind  their  own 
business  and  keep  business  going." 

' '  I  think  he  has  attended  to  his  business  well  enough 
to  succeed  with  it  at  least,"  replied  Will.  Morton. 
"  He  and  his  father  have  one  corner  of  what  used  to  be 
Graham's  field  all  built  over  with  shops." 

"Well,  that  is  very  nice,  I  am  sure,"  replied  Clin- 
ton. "Those  are  the  kind  of  men  we  would  like  to 
have  come  down  to  North  Carolina  and  go  into  manu- 
facturing carriages  for  us." 


550  WALTER  GRAHAM,   STATESMAN. 

"  I  guess  Dave  and  his  wife  are  both  content  to  stay 
about  Shocktown,"  said  Blanch. 

"  Mr.  Clinton,  I  thought  you  would  have  been  able 
to  have  introduced  us  to  your  wife  by  this  time,"  said 
Emma,  with  great  good  humor. 

How  opportunely  that  observation  came,  Emma  ;  it 
gives  us  such  an  opportunity  to  tell  all  about  it,  and  to 
relieve  the  reader's  curiosity  on  that  question.  No, 
Clinton  has  not  been  able  to  present  his  wife  to  anyone 
as  yet,  for  the  simple  reason  he  has  never  had  one. 

Have  you  been  on  the  alert,  dear  friend,  for  still  fur- 
ther surprises  ?  for  those  mysterious  facts  always  occur- 
ring more  strange  than  fiction  ? 

Have  you  been  waiting,  breathless,  ever}-  minute,  to 
find  him  wedded  to  the  Northern  girl  who  pronounced 
all  his  people  "nothing  but  a  perfect  set  of  blow- 
horns?"  Did  you  suppose  the  invisible  form  of  des- 
tiny which  stretches  herself  before  him  would  drift 
him  thither?  Or,  have  j^ou  been  treated  to  surprises 
enough  for  this  occasion  ?  Has  the  revelation  of  the 
new  owners  of  Mt.  Airy  satisfied  the  appetite  for  the 
time  being,  or  must  we  still  take  5^ou  into  one  more 
secret,  and  tell  you  why  he  does  not  present  to  his 
friends  to-night — Annie  Eesher  as  his  wife  ?  Will  you 
be  content  with  nothing  short  of  the  whole  truth — that 
it  is  owing  to  no  fault  of  his  that  she  is  not  now 
addressed  as  Mrs.  Clinton  ?  She  had  come  to  respect 
and  honor  him,  and  to  have  buried  all  malice  toward 
the  Southern  people,  but  she  had  not  as  yet  thought 
of  marrying  him  or  any  other  man.  In  fact,  Annie 
Eesher  was  a  woman  with  self-reliance  enough  of  her 
own,  and  has  been  disciplined  enough  in  the  school  of 
misfortune  to  be  able  to  take  care  of  herself  without 


THE   SECOND    REUNION.  551 

leaning  on  the  arm  of  any  man  for  support  ;  and  if  j^ou 
will  but  possess  yourselves  for  a  few  minutes,  you  shall 
know  what  has  become  of  her. 

As  for  Clinton,  you  must  be  j'our  own  judge  as  to 
what  effect  his  rejection  had  on  him  ;  whether  it  was 
the  feather  on  the  beam  or  the  finger  of  destiny  that 
stood  at  the  forked  roads  of  the  two  great  political  par- 
ties in  the  daj's  of  reconstruction  and  negro  suffrage, 
and  caused  him  to  be  recorded  to-night  a  Democrat 
instead  of  a  Republican  member  of  the  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives. All  that  we  will  say  at  present  is,  he 
smiled  drjdy,  and  answered  Emma,  saying,  "  No,  it 
has  not  been  ni}^  good  fortune  to  present  to  you  Mrs. 
Clinton,  as  yet." 

"Well,  we  will  still  keep  on  the  watch-out  for  her," 
replied  Emma.     "  I  have  no  doubt — " 

"  There  !  the  door-bell  is  ringing,"  interrupted  Wal- 
ter. 

"  I  will  wager  a  big  apple,"  says  Blanch,  "that  is 
Wendell  and  Ida,  ahead  of  time." 

The  servant  opens  the  door.  A  voice  below  is  heard 
to  inquire  : 

"  Does  Mr.  Graham  live  here?" 

"Hark!"  says  Blanch,  "Didn't  I  tell  you?"  and 
she  ran  down  stairs  to  meet  the  new  comers,  exclaim- 
ing, "Yes,  this  is  where  Mr.  Graham  lives,  and  his 
wife  too."  Which  was  followed  by  mutual  exclama- 
tions of : 

"  Well,  I  do  say." 

"Did  you  ever!"  with  a  round  of  kisses,  which 
could  be  heard  up  stairs  ;  followed  once  again  by  the 
expletive  : 

"Listen  !"  from  Emma,  who  says  : 


552  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"  It's  Wendell  and  Ida  and  Aunt  Mary  !  "  and  she 
starts  down  stairs,  followed  by  Walter,  who  says  : 

"  Please  excuse  me  for  a  minute." 

The  commotion  is  over  in  due  time  below  ;  they 
proceed  up  stairs  to  the  parlor,  headed  by  Walter,  who 
says  : 

"  Mr.  Clinton,  allow  me  to  present  to  3'ou  Hon.  W.  P. 
Bolton,  member  elect  of  Congress  from  Iowa. 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  meet  Hon.  Wendell  Phillips 
Bolton  of  Iowa  ;  I  believe  we  have  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  before." 

"  I  have  heard  of  his  election  to  the  next  Congress." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  have  a  very  distinct  recollection  of  the 
occasion  on  which  I  met  Andrew  Jackson  Clinton  years 
ago  ;  but  I  had  not  thought  then  of  his  being  in  Con- 
gress four  years  before  me ;  though  I  am  not  so  much 
surprised  that  Walter  preceded  me  two  years,  notwith- 
standing I  had  to  go  beyond  the  Mississippi  to  .'Secure 
ni}'  commission." 

"  So  far  as  going  beyond  the  Mississippi  to  secure 
your  commission  is  concerned,  Mr.  Bolton,  do  you 
know  I  think  you  acted  wisel3^  I  have  always  regretted 
that  I  did  not  go  to  Texas  immediately  after  the  war  ; 
in  fact,  I  can  not  rightly  give  it  up  yet." 

Mrs.  Bolton  and  Aunt  Mary  have  of  course  been  in- 
troduced by  this  time,  and  all  are  now  talking  away 
with  break- neck  speed  ;  and  of  course  you  understand 
the  whole  situation  now.  That  Wendell  Phillips  Bol- 
ton graduated  in  law  at  Ann  Arbor  the  year  after 
Walter  Graham  ;  that  he  went  directly  to  Iowa,  opened 
a  law  office  in  a  thriving  town  in  that  State,  and  cast 
his  fortunes  there. 

That  he  returned  to  the  land  of  his  nativity  a  year 


THE   SECOND    REUNION.  553 

later  on  a  visit,  whereupon  he  tarried  long  enough  to 
marry  Miss  Ida  Reed,  daughter  of  "  Aunt  Mary;"  that 
he  returned  at  once  to  his  adopted  State,  taking  with 
him  his  wife  and  wife's  mother,  where  he  devoted 
himself  to  his  profession  and,  occasionally,  to  politics, 
until  now,  he  returns  on  his  first  visit  to  Washington 
with  his  family  after  the  war  to  witness  the  inaugura- 
tion of  Garfield  ;  and  with  his  certificate  of  election  as 
one  of  the  Congressmen  from  the  State  of  Iowa  ready 
to  perform  official  duty  any  time  after  the  fourth  of 
March  if  necessary. 

Of  course,  you  understood  that  in  due  time  the  con- 
versation naturally  drifted  back  to  the  pleasant  event 
of  their  other  reunion,  Clinton  following  up  the  chain 
of  thought  by  asking,  "What  has  become  of  your 
other  sister,  Graham,  who  was  still  single  on  that 
occasion  ? ' ' 

"  Oh,  Sue,  you  mean  ?  "  replied  Walter.  "  Well,  she 
went  on  to  college  after  that;  graduated  in  1870; 
taught  school  for  one  year  ;  married  Professor  Lewis, 
one  of  the  faculty,  in  1872,  as  robust  and  healthy  a 
looking  man  of  twenty-eight  as  you  would  wish  to  see. 
She  went  to  Portland,  Oregon,  with  him  in  1873, 
where  he  opened  a  school  of  his  own  ;  died  in  1878, 
leaving  her  a  life  insurance  of  $1,000,  a  young  son  of 
three  and  a-half  years,  and  a  good  name.  He  said  to 
her  on  his  death-bed  :  '  Sue,  I  am  not  going  to  recover 
from  the  attack  ;  I  know  it.  I  leave  you  here  on 
the  Pacific  slope,  far  awa}'  from  your  kindred  and 
friends,  and  with  the  grave  responsibility  of  raising 
our  darling  boy.  Go  back  to  j'our  parents  if  you 
think  you  must,  or  do  whatever  you  think  for  the 
best ;  but  my  opinion  is,  that  if  you  can  stay  here  and 
24 


554  WALTER   GRAHAM,  STATESMAN. 

raise  him  in  Oregon  to  grow  up  with  this  new  and 
growing  country,  his  and  j-our  chances  for  success 
will  both  be  greater  than  in  the  regions  east  of  the 
Mississippi.' 

"Sue  was  too  'spunky,'  as  the  boys  expressed  it,  to 
come  home,  at  any  rate,  to  say  nothing  of  the  sacred 
respect  in  which  she  held  the  advice  of  her  husband. 

' '  Thus  the  situation  stood  with  her  for  two  months 
after  she  buried  her  husband,  when  she  received  a 
letter  from  Miss  Lesher,  asking  her  if  it  would  not  be 
a  good  place  for  her  and  her  mother  to  locate,  as  they 
had  buried  her  father  a  year  ago,  and  had  made  up 
their  mind  to  leave  Sharwood  if  something  better 
offered. 

"  Sue  wrote  to  her,  by  all  means  to  come  out,  painting 
in  glowing  colors  the  high  wages  that  teachers  received 
out  there. 

"Six  months  later  Miss  Lesher  and  her  mother,  and 
Sue  and  her  boy,  were  found  living  in  one  house,  Mrs. 
Lesher  taking  care  of  the  boy  during  the  day,  and  Sue 
and  Miss  Lesher  both  teaching  through  the  day  at 
ninety  dollars  per  month." 

"So  that  is  the  history  of  Sue  and  Miss  Lesher,  is 
it?"  responded  Clinton.  "Has  she  never  been  on  to 
see  you  since,  or  any  of  you  to  see  her  ? ' ' 

"She  has  not  been  home  since  father  and  mother 
were  out  to  see  her  last  summer,  and  they  report  her 
in  the  best  of  spirits  and  health  ;  say  she  owns  two 
lots  of  her  own  in  the  city,  which  she  earned  herself, 
and  which  have  increased  wonderfully  in  value  since 
she  bougtht  them.  And  Miss  Lesher  has  bought  a 
house  of  her  own."  "And  next  summer,  if  we  live 
that  long,  Walter  and  I  are  going  to  see  her,"  added 
Blanch. 


THE   SECOND    REUNION.  555 

"And  you  will  bring  her  home  with  you  to  live?" 
said  Ida. 

"You  would  not  think  so,"  replied  Blanch,  "from 
the  tone  of  the  letters  she  writes.  I  think  it  would 
take  a  gold  mine  to  bring  her  from  Oregon  ;  everything 
is  perfect  there,  according  to  her  representation — even 
to  the  climate." 

"  No,  next  summer  we  go  to  see  her  ;  and  then  the 
next  summer  she  comes  to  visit  us ;  but  not  to  stay," 
said  Walter. 

"  What  became  of  your  brother  ?  "  inquired  Clinton. 

"Joe  ?  Why,  he  took  a  notion  after  graduation  at  Cor- 
nell that  he  must  yet  have  some  adventuresome  life, 
even  if  the  war  was  over  ;  he  is  away  now  on  the 
United  States  Coast  Survey.  The  last  trip  he  had  was 
to  Alaska  to  watch  the  transit  of  Venus. ' ' 

"  Is  he  married  ?" 

"  No,  but  reports  say  he  is  engaged  to  a  Boston  lady 
of  the  literary  aristocracy,"  replied  Blanch. 

"  Lord  help  him,  if  he  is  !"  replied  Clinton. 

"  You  had  better  not  go  up  to  Boston  and  tell  them 
that,"  replied  Blanch. 

"  Why  ?  Do  you  think  I  would  not  get  back  alive  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  you  would  get  back  without  bodily 
injury,"  said  Bolton. 

"But,  nevertheless,  it  might  rouse  them  a  little," 
said  Mrs.  Bolton. 

"  That  they  could  get  over  in  time,"  said  Walter. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Clinton,  smiling.  "  I  have  forgiven 
the  New  England  people,  as  they  profess  to  have  for- 
given us  ;  sometimes  I  wonder,  though,  with  all  their 
smartness,  how  long  it  will  take  them  to  learn  that 
there  was,  or  is  a  United  States,  outside  of  New  Eng- 
land." 


556  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"  I  think  I  saw  New  England  regiments  in  the  army 
that  had  learned  that,"  replied  Walter,  smiling. 
"They  were  even  convinced  that  there  was  a  South." 

' '  As  we  are  having  such  a  pleasant  impromptu 
reunion  of  so  many  representative  men,  I  think  we 
should  have  some  speech-making,  as  we  had  at  the 
other  one,"  said  Will.  Morton. 

"Oh,  that  is  an  excellent  idea,"  exclaimed  all  the 
lady  members  of  the  company  ;  Emma  clapping  her 
hands  and  saying,  "  Mr.  Clinton,  you  will  have  to  lead 
oflF;  3'ou  were  first  to  begin  before." 

"  You  will  have  to  give  him  a  toast,  Ida." 

"Too  late  to  commence  the  banquet  now,"  cried 
Clinton.     "  I  was  just  about  to  take  my  leave." 

"Oh,  it  is  not  midnight  yet,"  said  Blanch.  "No 
backing  out,  Mr.  Clinton," 

"  Will.,  you  will  have  to  announce  the  toasts." 

"Yes,  go  ahead,  Clinton.  You  ma)'  take  'The 
Southern  Problem.'  " 

"Well,  if  I  must,  I  must,"  said  Clinton,  rising. 

"  '  The  Southern  Problem  !'  I  am  glad  you  have  given 
me  a  subject  with  which  I  am  so  familiar;  or,  rather, 
a  subject  which  is  so  simple.  For  be  it  understood,  my 
friends,  we  of  the  South  do  not  recognize  the  term.  It 
is  a  misnomer  for  the  sectional  feeling  which  you  peo- 
ple of  the  North  are  endeavoring  to  keep  alive,  that 
you  may  perpetuate  your  political  power.  There  is  no 
Southern  problem.  At  our  former  reunion  I  told  you 
as  frankly  as  I  knew  how  that  the  Union  was  pre- 
served, and  that  slavery  was  abolished ;  I  add  now 
with  equal  emphasis  :  and  the  negro  is  enfranchised. 
We  of  the  South  are  conscious  of  it  and  recognize  it  as 
a  fact  of  which  we  do  not  need  to  be  constantly  remind- 


THE  SECOND    REUNION.  557 

ed  by  our  brethern  of  the  North.  Whether  that  suf- 
frage will  prove  a  blessing  to  the  negro  or  a  hindrance 
to  his  true  progress  and  to  the  white  civilization  of  the 
South  I  will  not  now  discuss.  It  is  necessary  only  to 
say,  that  the  fact  is  upon  us,  and  we  know  it.  All 
that  the  people  of  the  North  need  do  is  to  let  us  alone 
and  we  will  solve  our  own  domestic  questions.  There  is 
no  Southern  problem.  You  people  of  the  North  who 
refuse  the  negro  admittance  to  your  workshops  and  to 
your  public  improvements  should  not  be  concerned 
about  managing  the  affairs  of  us  who  employ  the  negro 
to  build  our  houses  and  our  railroads. 

' '  There  is  no  Southern  Problem.  Friends  of  the  North , 
attend  to  your  own  domestic  affairs.  Preserve  the 
purity  of  the  ballot  box  in  your  own  great  cities  and 
don't  be  torturing  your  consciences  about  ours  ;  and 
the  fraternal  feeling  of  peace  and  good  will  and  kind- 
ness will  grow  between  the  two  sections.  Thank  God, 
it  is  growing  in  spite  of  yowx  efforts  to  destroy  it. 

"  Twenty  years  ago,  sir,  you,  who  proposed  this  toast, 
let  me  remind  you,  could  have  seen  your  wife,  who 
now  sits  smiling,  the  ornament  that  she  is  to  this  cir- 
cle, leaving  her  home  in  the  South  in  a  spring- w^agoii 
drawn  by  a  long-eared  quadruped.  Her  mother,  who 
now  rests  content  in  your  luxurious  home  in  the 
North,  was  leaving  her  home  in  the  South  a  refugee. 
Her  hero  father,  who  now  sleeps  in  an  unmarked  grave 
in  Virginia,  was  leaving  with  them,  an  exile,  banished 
from  his  home.  To-day  we  welcome  them  back  with 
open  arms  and  warm  hearts  to  the  ownership  of  that 
home  which  was  once  mine  and  my  father's.  Can 
fraternal  feeling  go  farther? 

"Seventeen  years  ago  you,  sir,  Major  Graham,  were 


658  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

my  captive,  marching  towards  my  home  as  my  pris- 
oner. To  day  I  long  to  see  you  there  to  visit  your 
new  possessions.      Can  fraternal  feeling  go  farther  f 

"Sir,  there  is  no  'Southern  Problem.'  All  we  need 
is  to  be  let  alone.  Wh)-,  there  is  a  kinship  even  in  our 
domestic  animals. 

"Do  you  remember  that  gray  mare  I  rode  in  the 
Wilderness  the  day  I  took  you  prisoner,  Graham  ? 
She  was  a  half  sister  to  those  two  little  bay  mares  your 
father  owned.  Uncle  Joe  Bernard  shipped  her  down 
to  my  father  only  two  years  before  the  war  ;  their  sire 
was  a  high-bred  Kentucky  horse,  imported  into  your 
neighborhood  to  improve  your  stock." 

"  Hold  !"  cried  Will.  Morton,  "  the  subject  was  not 
gray  mares  in  the  Wilderness." 

"  Let  him  proceed,"  said  Walter  ;  "  I  am  just  begin- 
ning to  get  interested  ;  I  always  did  love  those  two  bay 
mares  of  father's  ;  it  is  a  great  pity  that  any  of  their 
kindred  were  ever  desecrated  in  the  rebel  cause. ' ' 

"  The  gray  mare  you  rode  in  the  Wilderness  the  day 
you  took  Walter  prisoner?"  exclaimed  Blanch.  "Oh! 
she  must  have  been  a  remarkable  animal ;  what  did 
you  call  her?     Hagar  in  the  Wilderness?" 

"No,  I  called  her  Lucy.  Oh,  she  was  a  darling," 
replied  Clinton. 

"Oh,  that  makes  it  all  the  worse,"  said  Walter; 
"  that  was  what  we  called  one  of  our  bays — 'Lucy.' 
But  I  thought  your  gra}^  had  a  familiar  look  the  day  I 
saw  her  ;  perhaps  it  was  her  kindly  admonition  that 
caused  j-ou  to  let  me  go  ?" 

"Oh,  no;  it  was  ni}'  friend,  the  corporal,  who  was 
so  stupid  as  to  let  you  escape.  He  was  angry  at  you 
for  a  good  while  ;  but  he  has  a  very  kindly  feeling 


THE   SECOND    REUNION.  559 

toward  you  now.  He  has  succeeded  well  in  business 
since  the  war,"  replied  Clinton. 

"  I  hope  he  has,"  replied  Walter.  "  I  hope  the  fifty 
dollars  he  got  from  me  gave  him  a  good  start  at  the 
close  of  hostilities." 

"  Did  you  loan  him  fifty  dollars  ?"  asked  Clinton. 

"Yes,  I  loaned  him  fifty  dollars  that  day;  rather 
under  compulsion  though,  I  might  saj' ;  or,  in  fact,  he 
might  call  it  an  exchange.  He  gave  me  a  two-dollar 
Confederate  bill  in  lieu  of  my  fifty-dollar  greenback," 
said  Walter. 

"What!    Explain  yourself!"  cried  Clinton. 

"  No,  I  will  not  explain  any  farther,  Clinton," 
replied  Walter,  advancing  toward  him  and  giving  him 
his  hand.  "  Your  honest  surprise  answers  to  ni}-  mind 
a  question,  about  which  I  have  often  wondered,  so  we 
will  say  nothing  more  about  it." 

Clinton  gave  his  hand  a  hearty  shake  and,  with  a 
grim  smile,  said  : 

"I  think  I  understand  all  now.  Let  us  proceed 
with  the  toasts. ' ' 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Will.  Morton  ;  "I  believe  Wendell 
Phillips  Bolton  comes  next  in  order ;  he  may  respond 
to  the  toast,  '  The  Labor  Problem.'  " 

Bolton  arose  and  said  : 

"  I  wish  I  could  speak  the  words,  'there  is  no  labor 
problem,'  with  the  same  confidence  as  mj^  friend  who 
preceded  me  has  declared  there  is  no  Southern  prob- 
lem. In  fact,  I  love  to  cling  to  the  belief  that  there  is 
no  labor  problem  ;  but  I  always  hesitate  more  or  less 
when  T  utter  the  words. 

"I  cannot  forget  that  less  than  four  j'ears  ago  I 
could  not  have  come  from  Iowa  to  Washington  on  any 
one  of  our  great  trunk  railways. 


560  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"  I  cannot  forget  that  blood  was  flowing  in  many  of 
the  great  cities  of  our  country. 

' '  I  still  remember  that  the  great  Baltimore  and  Ohio 
stood  paralyzed. 

"I  still  remember  that  millions  of  dollars  were 
ascending  in  flames  in  the  great  manufacturing  city  of 
Pittsburgh  ;  that  the  rioters  were  victors  in  the  battle 
of  the  Round  House  ;  that  the  sheriff  and  his  posse 
were  lying  dead  on  the  ground. 

' '  I  still  remember  that  not  a  wheel  was  turning  on 
the  great  Pennsylvania  Central,  except  an  occasional 
mail  car.  The  grass  could  have  grown  on  the  streets 
of  Philadelphia,  so  far  as  concerned  any  commerce  it 
was  contributing  to  her. 

"Nay,  I  remember  moie  ;  that  the  State  troops  called 
upon  to  preserve  the  peace  in  many  of  the  States  could 
not  be  relied  upon,  for  the  reason  that  they  boldly  and 
defiantly  proclaimed  their  sympathy  with  the  strikers. 

' '  I  remember  that  the  strong  arm  and  iron  discipline 
of  the  United  States  army  was  called  upon  to  suppress 
these  disturbances.  When  I  see  millionaire  railroad 
presidents  drive  defiantly  by  their  starving  employes 
with  $20,000  outfits,  refusing  to  give  an  ear  to  their 
complaints,  I  am  not  sure  there  is  no  labor  problem. 
When  I  see  organized  capital  openly  declare  that  it 
proposes  to  bring  all  the  trunk  lines  west  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi into  one  grand  pool,  thereby  stopping  all  com- 
petition, and  then  fix  rates  as  it  pleases,  I  am  not 
sure  there  is  no  labor  problem. 

"  When  I  see  children  born  daily  in  the  city  of  New 
York  who  are  destined  never  to  enjoy  the  luxury  of 
light  and  air,  doomed  to  live  miserable  lives  of  suffer- 
ing,  incapable  of  either  mental  or  physical  develop- 


THE  SECOND   REUNION.  561 

raent,  and  certain  to  fill  premature  graves,  can  I  be 
sure  there  is  no  labor  problem  f 

"  My  friends,  I  am  not  an  alarmist;  I  am  not  a  the- 
orist ;  I  am  not  a  communist  ;  I  am  a  Republican,  clean 
bred  ;  I  have  been  elected  Congressman  in  spite  of  the 
"  Greenbackers  "  and  fiat-money  people  of  the  West. 

"  But  I  am  only  asking  these  questions  as  worthy  of 
our  serious  reflection. 

"  What  is  this  condition  of  things  ?  Is  it  what  Ches- 
terfield said  he  saw  in  France — 'All  the  symptoms  of 
revolution  that  he  had  ever  met  with  in  history  ?'  or 
is  it  nothing  but  the  slight  friction  incident  to  common 
life  ?  I  trust  and  believe  it  is  the  latter  ;  that  it  is 
nothing  but  what  we  can  adjust  and  solve  peaceably, 
equitably,  and  without  bloodshed,  in  this  great  repub- 
lic where  boys  come  from  the  tow-path  to  the  White 
House.  But  they  are  questions,  my  friends,  which  we 
must  meet  with  a  mind  open  for  the  truth.  True,  my 
friends,  we  are  a  little  poor  in  the  West  just  now  ;  our 
people  are  paying  a  little  too  much  interest  for  their 
mone3^  Do  any  of  you  know,  let  me  ask  while  on  my 
feet,  of  any  capitalist  who  has  ten  thousand  dollars  he 
will  let  come  to  Iowa  at  six  per  cent,  on  perfectly  good 
real  estate  security  ? ' ' 

"Now  you  have  come  down  to  practical  talk,"  said 
Will.  Morton. 

"And  have  demonstrated  that  you  are  a  Yankee,  as 
well  as  a  Republican,"  said  Clinton. 

"  Yes,  you  remind  us  of  the  man  who  advertised  his 
goods  at  a  friend's  funeral,"  said  Blanch. 

' '  I  see  you  are  becoming  too  sarcastic  for  me, ' '  replied 
Wendell ;   "  let  us  proceed  with  the  next  speaker." 

"Yes,  hurry  up  with  it,"  said  Clinton,  "for  it  is 
growing  late. ' ' 


562  WAIvTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"All  right,"  said  Will.;  "Walter  Graham  will  re- 
spond to  '  The  Race  Problem.'  " 

Walter  arose,  saying  :  "  My  friends,  I  am  sure  there 
is  a  race  problem,  testing  to  the  severest  extent  of  all 
questions,  our  statesmanship.  Not  so  much  our  states- 
manship  as  our  prejudices.  The  race  problem  can  be 
made  perfectly  simple  in  a  single  word — Jiistice.  Apply 
that  remedy  impartially  and  alike  to  both  races  and 
then  I  can  agree  that  there  is  no  Southern  problem. 
Justice,  an  element  in  which  the  land  may  wade  with 
perfect  safety  ;  justice,  seasoned  with  mercy  ;  can  the 
white  race  of  the  South  say  that  this  has  not  been  done 
to  them  ? 

"Are  there  no  considerations  of  mercy  for  the  black 
man  ?  Do  you  forget  that  he  has  been  for  two  cen- 
turies a  slave,  during  which  time  he  poured  wealth  and 
luxury  into  your  laps  and  the  means  to  educate  and 
culture  your  children,  while  you  closed  to  his  mind 
every  avenue  of  useful  knowledge  and  robbed  him  of 
his  labor  ? 

"Yet,  in  the  face  of  this  condition,  I  hear  the 
'superior'  race  of  the  South  talk  about  'negro 
supremacy .'  This  astounds  me.  The  negro  race  must 
have  advanced  wonderfully  in  the  scale  of  thrift  and 
civilization  if  already  he  is  beginning  to  threaten  the 
high  bred  Caucasian  race  of  the  South  with  subjection. 

"  Friends  of  the  South,  your  situation  is  trying,  and 
we  speak  not  what  we  speak  in  malice,  but  in  kind- 
ness, for  your  benefit  as  well  as  for  the  black's.  We 
claim  not  that  we  would  have  done  better  under  the 
circumstances  than  you  have ;  we  admit  there  are 
beams  in  our  own  eyes  ;  we  grant  that  we,  in  the  first 
place,  may  have  been  as  responsible  for  bringing  the 


The  second  reunion.  563 

negro  here  as  you  ;  we  only  remind  j^ou  now  that  he 
himself  cannot  be  held  accountable  for  his  presence 
here. 

' '  I  only  repeat  he  was  brought  here  over  two  hundred 
years  ago  in  chains  and  slaverj',  and  here  he  will  stay 
until  his  race  or  ours  is  entirely  extinct ;  or  till  his 
race  and  ours  have  merged  into  one  ;  or  until  his  race 
and  ours  have  mutuallj'  agreed  to  accord  to  each  other, 
to  the  fullest  extent,  their  civil  and  political  rights. 
Which  of  these  three  alternatives  do  we  all  prefer? 
Infinitely  the  latter.  For  be  assured,  my  friends,  that 
one  of  these  three  things  will  happen.  It  may  be 
sooner,  it  may  be  later,  but  be  assured  it  will  come, 
else  all  history  is  a  dead  letter,  all  nature  is  false. 

"Then,  friends  of  the  South,  begin  by  simply  doing 
the  negro  justice.  What  he  needs  is  to  be  let  alone. 
If  he  is  on  the  road  to  market  with  his  cotton  crop,  let 
him  alone  ;  if  he  is  on  the  road  to  the  election,  let  him 
alone;  if  he'  is  lying  in  jail,  aw^aiting  to  be  tried  for 
crime,  let  him  alone.  Don't  take  him  away  and  shoot 
him  in  either  of  these  cases,  not  even  the  latter  ;  wait 
until  judge  and  jury  have  pronounced  him  guilty. 
You  need,  generally  speaking,  have  no  fear  that  he 
will  escape,  if  guilty,  at  the  hands  of  his  white  tryers. 

"  But  if,  perchance,  there  should  be  a  judge  who  is 
disposed  to  see  that  he  gets  justice,  don't  take  the 
judge  out  and  murder  him,  and  his  son  and  daughter, 
in  the  presence  of  his  wife." 

"You  allude,  no  doubt,  to  the  Judge  Chisholra 
affair,"  said  Clinton.  "Permit  me  to  say  that  the 
conservative  people  of  the  South  deprecated  that  act, 
and  it  is  hardly  fair  that  they  should  be  held  responsi- 
ble for  the  lawlessness  of  one  particular  county." 


564  WALTER    GRAHAM.    STATESMAN. 

"Judge  Chisholm's  widow,"  continued  Walter,  "is 
no  doubt  ver}^  grateful  to  the  conservative  people  of  the 
South  for  their  deprecation  of  the  act ;  all  she  knows, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  is  that  the  Governor  of 
the  State  concluded,  after  mature  reflection,  that  it 
would  be  better  not  to  stir  the  matter  up  ;  and  perhaps  it 
would  be  better  now  for  me  not  to  stir  it  up  ;  and  per- 
haps I  have  already  exceeded  m\^  time." 

"  Yes,  and  as  we  had  four  toasts  the  other  time,  we 
should  have  the  fourth  one  now,"  said  Clinton. 
"  Morton,  you  will  have  to  take  Tom  Swave's  place." 

"lam  not  a  speech-maker,"  replied  Will.  "Be- 
sides, I  have  to  announce  the  toasts." 

"  And  besides,  we  ma}^  as  well  let  Tom  speak  for 
himself,"  said  Walter.  "Shall  I  read  you  his  last 
letter ;  it  is  not  very  long  ?" 

"Certainly,"  said  all  the  company,  "we  would  be 
delighted." 

"Well,  then,  here  it  is,"  said  Walter,  drawing  it 
from  his  pocket. 

"  WEI.LINGTON,  New  Zealand,  December,  25,  1S80. 
My  Dear  Friend  : 

I  am  seated  this  evening  on  the  south  balcony  of  my  board- 
ing house,  enjoying  the  cool  south  breeze,  and  have  conceived 
the  idea  of  dropping  you  a  few  lines  to  let  you  know  what 
Christmas  is  like  in  a  converse  climate. 

The  south  wind  is  cool  and  pleasant,  as  I  have  already  stated, 
at  this  hour — 8  P.  M. — though  I  thought  I  shovild  have  melted 
under  the  parching,  dry  wind  which  came  down  from  the  north 
to-day  at  2  p.  m.,  as  I  drove  with  a  friend  in  the  country. 

To-day,  however,  I  was  told,  was  unusually  warm,  and  farm- 
ers who  were  working  in  their  fields  told  us  that  it  was  the 
warmest  Christmas  they  had  known  for  years.  The  harvest  is 
rather  earlier  than  usual,  they  said,  and  most  of  them  had 
already  commenced  to  cut  their  grass. 


THE  SECOND   REUNION.  565 

One  old  man,  who  was  working  his  corn,  informed  ^is  he 
never  hked  to  commence  making  hay  until  after  Christmas,  as 
he  generally  liked  to  give  some  observance  to  the  day,  and  this 
was  almost  impossible  to  do  after  harvest  had  fully  begun.  They 
generally,  I  found,  try  to  gather  at  their  churches  for  a 
short  service,  either  early  in  the  morning  or  in  the  evening 
after  sundown,  no  matter  how  busy  they  are  with  their  work. 
But,  as  a  rule,  Christmas  goes  largely  with  the  agricultural 
portion  of  the  people  here  a  little  as  the  Fourth  of  July  had  to 
go  with  the  farmers  around  old  Shocktown  when  you  and  I 
were  boys  ;  the  people  in  cities  and  towns,  of  course,  generally 
observe  the  day. 

The  native  New  Zealander,  of  whom  I  have  seen  but  two 
since  I  came  here,  makes  the  American  Indian  appear  quite  an 
intelligent  gentleman.  Whether  the  white  man  will  solve  the 
problem  of  what  to  do  with  him  any  better  than  he  has  with  us, 
I  cannot  predict. 

Do  you  know,  however,  Walter,  that  there  are  now  on  this 
island  almost  one-third  as  many  people  as  there  were  in  the  orig- 
inal thirteen  colonies  when  our  fathers  undertook  to  throw  off  the 
j'oke  of  old  England  ?  I  cannot  say,  though,  that  I  discover  any 
tendency  on  the  part  of  these  people  to  imitate  our  example  ; 
they  all  seem  perfectly  content  under  the  management  of  their 
own  domestic  affairs,  and  what  slight  supervision  the  mother 
country  takes  over  them.  Perhaps  it  is  the  mother  country  that 
has  profited  some  by  experience. 

I  received  my  last  batch  of  Sharwood  papers  last  week,  and 
your  letter  a  month  behind  time.  I  was  sorry  to  hear  of  the 
death  of  Mr.  Morton,  following  so  shortly  after  that  of  Mr. 
Williamson.  What  unique  figures  they  both  were  in  their 
respective  ways  and  communities. 

You  and  I  can  scarcely  remember  the  day  when  we  did  not 
hear  the  phrase,  "  Old  John  Williamson." 

I  will  start  this  next  week,  in  the  next  mail  via  San  Francisco, 
and  it  should  reach  you,  ordinarily,  in  from  five  to  seven  weeks. 
No  doubt  you  will  have  it  before  the  inauguration  of  Garfield, 
at  which  event  I  will  be  with  you  in  spirit. 

Remember  me  very  kindly  to  all  the  family  and  all  my  friends, 


566  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

including  our  friend  Bolton,  who  I  see  is  to  speak  for  the  State 
of  Iowa  in  the  next  Congress.  I  suppose  3'ou  see  Clinton  some- 
times since  you  have  been  in  Washington.  Ask  him  if  he 
remembers  the  wedding  at  Shocktown,  and  extend  to  him  my 
kindest  regards,  if  he  remembers  me,  which  I  hardly  suppose  he 
does.  Yours,  very  truly, 

Tom." 

"  Yes,  tell  him  I  remember  him  ;  and  return  my  best 
wishes  when  yon  write,"  said  Clinton. 

"And  that  is  a  description  of  Christmas  in  a  con- 
verse climate,"  said  Bolton. 

"  Don't  it  seem  strange?  "  said  Ida. 

"  Isn't  it  interesting?  "  said  Emma. 

"  Yes,  written  by  poor  Tom  Swave  ;  the  smartest  man 
of  all  of  you,"  said  Will. 

"  We'll  concede  that,"  said  Walter,  thoughtfully. 

"  What  a  pleasant  night  we  have  had,"  said  Clinton; 
"  btit  it  is  midnight  now;  good-night,"  and  he  started 
for  his  bachelor  quarters. 

The  rest  of  the  company  chatted  another  twenty  min- 
utes. Cousin  Ida  having  fancied,  before  she  retired,  that 
the  traces  of  excess  had  deepened  just  a  little  in  Cousin 
Will.'s  face,  "though  he  certainly  is  a  good,  kind 
husband  to  Cousin  Emma,  and  seems  just  like  the  same 
kind,  generous  Will." 

And  thus  the  members  of  the  second  reunion  retired, 
wherein  had  participated  Emma  Morton,  who  was  the 
cousin  of  Ida  Bolton,  who  was  the  cousin  of  Blanch 
Graham,  who  was  the  cousin  of  Maggie  Barnard, 
whose  name  had  been  incidentall)'  mentioned  that  eve- 
ning, but  for  whose  history  you  must  wait  just  a  little 
longer. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

THE  SF.COND  CERTIFIED  CHECK. 

"The  mild  despairing  of  a  heart  resigned," 

— Coleridge. 

TT  is  the  last  day  of  April,  1886  ;  Garfield  has  been 
^  inaugurated,  and  assassinated  besides.  Vice- 
President  Arthur  has  served  out  his  term.  Cleveland 
has  been  President  for  more  than  a  year.  General 
Grant  lies  buried  in  Riverside  Park,  and  Walter  Gra- 
ham is  still  Congressman. 

Thus  the  three  great  Presidents  who  have  filled  the 
Presidential  chair  during  the  generation  of  the  vi^ar 
and  its  consequences  are  sleeping  the  tranquil  sleep  of 
death. 

Ah!  what  a  trio  they  present — Lincoln,  Grant,  Gar- 
field !  The  world  knows  their  history  by  heart ;  where- 
ever  the  Caucasian  race  is  found,  there  little  children 
lisp  their  names. 

The  first  and  the  last  of  this  trio  died  by  the  hand 
of  an  assassin  while  exercising  the  functions  of  his 
great  office ;  the  second,  of  cancer,  in  a  mountain 
retreat,  while  writing  his  own  memoirs,  that  his  family 
might  have  comfortable  means  of  living  when  he  was 
gone. 

Garfield,  the  most  scholarly  of  the  three,  second  in 
that  respect,  perhaps,  to  none  of  his  predecessors  in  the 
Presidential  chair  ;  a  citizen  soldier,  the  product  of  the 
war,  but  equipped  for  high  position  by  a  long  training 
as  a  national  legislator,  which  gave  additional  force  to 


568  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

his  natural  statesmanship  and  powers  of  comprehen- 
sion. 

Grant,  the  trained  soldier,  but  entirely  the  accident 
of  the  war — which  brought  him  from  the  obscurity  of 
thetanyard,  to  which  he  had  retired  at  its  breaking 
out — rising  to  the.  supreme  command  by  his  supreme 
fitness  for  the  position.  Calm  in  storm,  modest  in 
victory,  undisturbed  in  defeat,  a  thing  which  he  never 
seemed  to  understand  when  he  had  experienced  it ;  for, 
checkmated  though  he  might  be,  he  still  kept  his  face 
toward  his  enemy.  He  passed  through  two  terms  of 
the  presidenc}',  making  as  few  mistakes  as  could  be 
expected  from  a  man  entirely  unprepared  for  civil  duties, 
and  all  of  which  a  grateful  people  were  quick  to  for- 
give in  the  man  who  took  Gen.  Lee's  sword  from  him 
and  then  returned  it. 

Lincoln,  the  first  and  greatest  of  the  three  ;  poorest 
in  scholarship,  richest  in  wisdom.  The  most  unlet- 
tered man  who  ever  occupied  the  presidential  chair  ; 
the  strongest  in  natural  logic  and  clearness  of  percep- 
tion ;  endowed  with  a  common  sense  which  more  than 
compensated  for  conservativeness  and  over-caution.  So 
mild,  yet  so  firm.  The  man  who  "  never  erred,  except 
on  the  side  of  mercy. ' '  The  man  whom  destiny  had 
chosen  to  ride  the  fiercest  storm  of  civil  conflict  the 
world  had  ever  seen  ;  and  to  preserve  from  immolation 
Democracy's  fair  form  when  ambition  would  have 
invited  the  despot's  hand.  The  man  who  led  without 
dictating  ;  who  followed  without  being  servile.  The 
man  whose  every  pulse-beat,  whose  every  groan,  was 
for  his  bleeding  country.  The  man  whose  "malice 
was  for  none,"  whose  "  charity  was  for  all."  The  man 
whose  great  attribute  was  mercy.  The  man  whose  brain 


THE  SECOND   CERTIFIED   CHECK.  569 

was  pierced  with  an  assassin's  bullet,  and  who,  when  he 
died  left,  like  William  the  Silent,  little  children  crying 
on  the  streets.  The  man  who  was  followed  to  his  tomb 
by  the  benedictions  of  his  own  race  and  the  broken 
shackles  of  four  millions  of  slaves  to  attest  the  undy- 
ing gratitude  of  another.  The  man  who,  taken  all  in 
all,  makes  up  the  most  bcautif^il  figure  of  human  his- 
tory. 

What  thoughts  !  what  memories  !  what  speculations  ! 
clustered  around  these  three  characters  as  Walter  Gra- 
ham sat  in  his  parlor  that  evening  contemplating  them. 
All  so  different,  and  yet  so  alike  ;  each  representing  so 
peculiarly  the  possibilities  of  the  American  boy  ;  and 
yet  not  one  of  them  the  product  of  the  older  societies 
east  of  the  Alleghenies.  Nay,  these  were  the  children 
of  the  Wild  West  ;  the  children  of  nature,  proceeding 
respectively  from  the  log  cabin,  the  tanyard  and  the 
towpath,  to  imperishable  renown.  The  children  of 
Genius  who  are  born  without  ancestry,  die  without 
issue. 

It  was  in  this  reverie  that  Walter  Graham  was  found 
that  evening  when  his  door  opened  to  admit  Tom 
Swave,  just  returned  from  New  Zealand.  Tom's  face 
was  a  little  downcast,  his  prospects  not  over-bright, 
his  plans  for  the  future  not  well  defined.  The  meagre 
salary  attached  to  his  foreign  mission  had  not  admitted 
of  much  accumulation.  The  small  estate  which  his 
father  had  left  he  had  divided  equally  with  a  little 
cousin— a  niece  of  his  mother's — the  only  relative  he 
had  now  on  earth,  and  who  had  gone  to  his  father  after 
his  mother's  death,  and  kept  his  home  in  order  for  him 
until  his  death.  The  half  retained  for  himself  had 
vanished  in  a  bad  investment  in  New  Zealand. 


570  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATEvSMAN. 

Taken  all  together,  he  was  hardly  in  that  exuberant 
spirit  which  might  be  expected  of  one  after  his  return 
from  wandering  on  a  foreign  strand.  Was  it  because 
the  word  home,  had  lost  for  him  its  sweetness  through 
long  absence  of  its  experience  ?  or  was  it  because  he 
yearned  for  one  so  badly  that  not  even  return  to  his 
native  land  without  it  could  fill  the  void  in  his  heart  ? 

He  warmed  up  a  little,  however,  as  Walter  related  to 
him  different  local  events  since  his  absence,  and  the 
tragic  taking  off  of  Garfield  ;  the  pathos  and  sublimity 
of  the  scene  in  the  House  of  Representatives  in  its 
dying  moments  the  previous  session,  when  Mr.  Ran- 
dall of  Pennsylvania,  the  leader  of  the  Democracy, 
rose,  worn  and  haggard,  after  an  all-night  session  and 
demanded  that  the  rules  be  suspended  ;  that  the  bill 
authorizing  the  president  to  place  the  name  of  Gen. 
Grant  on  the  retired  list,  with  the  rank  of  Genera/,  be 
pa.ssed — the  highest  title  known  to  our  law  and  the 
one  which  Gen.  Grant  had  surrendered  to  become 
president. 

Walter  told  him  how  he  had  been  impressed  with 
the  stillness  and  solemnity  of  the  event  more  than  by 
anything  else  that  had  happened  since  he  had  been  in 
Congress.  How  his  heart  leaped  with  joy  as  he  saw 
Mr.  Randall's  figure  rise  to  make  a  motion  ;  how  the 
lips  of  its  previous  opponents  seemed  sealed  ;  how  the 
consciousness  of  the  fact,  that  if  this  last  and  proper 
tribute  of  respect  was  ever  to  be  paid  by  a  grateful 
country  to  the  greatest  soldier  of  the  age,  it  must  be 
done  quickly  if  done  at  all,  seemed  to  silence  through 
respect,  if  not  shame,  the  opponents  of  the  measure  ; 
how  its  friends  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  and  "  Thank  God, 
it  is  done,"  as  the  Speaker  announced  the  result,  and 


THE  SECOND  CERTIFIED   CHECK.  571 

the  messenger  flew  across  the  capitol  to  the  president's 
room,  who  was  waiting  to  affix  his  official  signature. 

Tom's  countenance  lighted  up  at  times  as  he  lis- 
tened to  these  experiences,  and  glowed  with  something 
of  its  old-time  fervor  and  patriotism.  But  he  inquired, 
incidentally,  of  course,  how  Sue  and  Miss  L,esher  were 
coming  on  in  Oregon  ;  and  Blanch  noticed,  when  he 
was  told  of  their  happy  condition,  and  shown  the  last 
photograph  which  Sue  had  sent  them  of  herself  and 
her  eleven-year-old  boy,  that  he  handed  them  back 
with  a  lingering  look. 

Three  weeks  later,  as  Walter  sal  in  his  parlor,  he 
said  to  Blanch,  "It  is  strange  where  Tom  Swave  has 
gone  so  soon  ;  here  is  the  first  letter  I  wrote  him 
returned  ;  the  second  one  he  has  never  answered,  and 
here  is  a  letter  from  Dave  now,  saying  he  does  not 
think  he  was  about  Shocktown  more  than  a  day." 

"  I  know  where  he  went,"  said  Blanch,  smiling. 

"  Where  ?  "  said  Walter,  curiously. 

"  I  think,  if  you  address  a  letter  to  Portland,  Oregon, 
he  will  get  it,"  replied  Blanch. 

"  Do  you  know  that  ?  "  asked  Walter. 

"No,  I  only  think  it,"  replied  Blanch,  smiling  at 
him  as  if  to  saj^  'What  stupid  things  men  are.'  "You 
try  that  once  for  an  experiment ;  direct  your  letter 
there." 

"That  is  rather  indefinite,"  replied  Walter,  "for 
one  who  is  merel}'  a  transient  traveler  ;  the  street  and 
number  should  be  on  it,  or  in  some  one's  care." 

"Direct  in  care  of  Sue  lyCwis  and  see  if  he  don't 
receive  it. ' ' 

"Or  Annie  I^esher,"  replied  Walter,  his  mind  now 
opening  to  the  thought. 


572  WALTER   GRAHAM,  STATESMAN, 

"  I  would  sooner  risk  the  other,"  responded  Blanch, 
still  looking  at  him  with  a  thoughtful  glance. 

Walter  pursued  the  subject  no  farther.  It  is  not 
certain  to  what  extent  he  had  taken  in  the  thought 
that  was  in  his  wife's  mind.  At  all  events,  he  com- 
menced plajnng  with  the  baby  and  examining  the  pile 
of  tariff  statistics  that  lay  before  him  ;  but,  three  hours 
later,  when  he  retired  to  bed,  his  mind  did  return  to 
Tom  Swave — to  Blanch's  premonitions  as  to  where  he 
had  gone  and  in  connection  therewith,  he  thought  of 
his  sister  Sue,  and  Miss  Lesher — perhaps  more  dis- 
tinctly of  the  former  than  the  latter. 

Who  can  tell  what  mysteries  are  hidden  in  the  law 
of  coincidence  ?  What  secret  magnetic  current  was  then 
sweeping  over  3,000  miles  across  the  continent  that  may 
have  turned  Walter  Graham's  thoughts  once  again  to 
Tom  Swave  ?  Was  it  because  at  that  moment  Tom 
Swave  was  standing  on  the  front  steps  of  a  neat  little 
two-story  dwelling  in  Portland,  ringing  the  door- bell  ? 
Was  it  because  that  ring  was  answered  by  a  little 
round-headed,  dark-eyed  boy  of  eleven,  not  so  very 
unlike  Walter  Graham  in  the  days  gone  by?  Was  it 
that  fact  which  touched  some  invisible, some  mysterious, 
brain-wave,  which  reached  Walter  at  that  instant  ?  For 
certain  it  was  that  Tom  Swave  was  thus  standing  at 
that  moment  on  Sue  L,ewis'  door-step  in  Portland,  Ore- 
gon ;  that  little  Walter  Lewis  was  running  back  to  the 
dining-room,  saying,  "  Mother,  there  is  a  gentleman  at 
the  door  wants  to  know  if  Mrs.  Lewis  is  in." 

Certain  it  was  Tom  Swave  had  dismissed  his  cab- 
man with  instructions  to  call  at  10  o'clock. 

It  was  equally  certain  that  Sue  Lewis  came  walking 
through  the  hall,  turned  up  the  light,  and  said  "Good 


THE   SECOND   CEKTIFIED   CHECK.  573 

evening,"  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  exclaimed, 
"  Why,  Tom  Swave  !  is  this  you  ?  " 

Tom  was  not  long  in  explaining  that  it  was  he  ;  nor 
was  he  long  in  experiencing  a  quickened  circulation  in 
his  blood,  a  warmer  feeling  in  his  heart. 

That  Sue  would  welcome  and  greet  him  as  an  old 
friend  of  her  childhood,  which  circumstance  alone 
would  do  him  good  he  well  knew;  but  somehow  he 
in  five  minutes  felt  the  gloom  on  his  mind  was  clearing. 
The  pain  in  his  leg,  which  had  been  threatening  him 
with  a  third  outbreak,  had  left. 

As  he  sat  in  the  cozy  little  parlor  to  which  he  had 
been  invited,  and  looked  into  those  rich,  black  eyes 
and  that  animated  countenance,  as  he  had  so  frequently 
done  when  a  boy,  and  which,  it  must  be  confessed, 
had  returned  to  him  at  times  the  tender  glances  of  the 
romping  young  girl  and  the  blooming  young  lady, 
and  he  was  not  always  insensible  of  their  power ; 
but,  to-night,  as  he  saw  them  shining  forth  from  the 
matronly  woman  of  thirty-nine,  he  w^as  sure  he  saw 
for  the  first  time  their  true  beauty. 

As  he  glanced  around  over  the  room  he  espied  the 
same  little  melodeon  on  which  Sue  used  to  play  her 
simple  airs  at  the  old  Shock  town  home. 

lyittle  Walter  soon  became  quite  friendly,  and  told 
him  some  of  his  experiences  in  school,  and  what 
books  he  was  studying. 

Sue  played,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  on  her 
little  melodeon,  "  Home,  Sweet  Home." 

But,  enough  of  this ;  imagination  must  have  her 
sway  for  the  next  two  hgurs.  It  is  already  ten  o'clock; 
yes,  ten  minutes  after;  the  cabman  has  been  waiting 
outside  for  the  last  five  minutes.     Little  Walter  has 


574  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

been  sleeping  on  the  lounge  for  the  last  hour.  Tom  is 
holding  Sue's  hand  tenderly  in  his  as  she  utters  the 
words  :  "  Tom,  I  must  be  left  to  myself  for  awhile.  I 
know  your  heart  is  in  the  right  place,  and  I  believe 
ever}^  word  that  you  say;  but,  you  understand,  I  must 
be  left  to  myself  for  awhile.  I  will  say  only  now  that 
I  do  pity  you." 

"  I  do  understand,  thoroughly,"  said  Tom  kindly, 
' '  and  you  shall  be  left  to  j'ourself. ' '  And  he  passed  out 
of  the  door,  stepped  into  the  cab,  and  was  driven 
directly  to  his  hotel,  where  he  sat  in  the  side  room  in 
silence  for  a  half  hour,  watching  the  people  around 
him  and  meditating. 

The  happy  moments  he  had  just  spent  with  the  old 
friend  of  his  youth,  he  began  to  have  a  vague  premon- 
ition, was  only  a  transient  meteor,  passing  over  his 
sick  mind  ;  he  felt  a  consciousness  that  he  had  been  too 
rash  ;  a  fear  that  after  all  his  trip  across  the  continent 
would  prove  no  balm  to  bis  sorrowing  spirit. 

He  realized  before  long  that  his  knee  was  paining 
him  severely;  he  remembered  the  severe  attack  he  had 
with  it  when  on  the  Pacific  Coast  before,  and  a  scarcely 
less  one  far  avvaj^  in  New  Zealand.  A  third  attack,  he 
had  always  believed,  would  take  his  life,  unless  he 
acted  promptly  on  the  prescription  —  amputation. 
All  the  syraptons  of  a  recurrence  of  his  trouble  were 
now  upon  him.  Not  even  the  electrifying  of  Sue  Lewis 
could  abolish  that  pain.  This  was  proof  positive  of  its 
existence.  His  purse  was  almost  as  lean  as  on  the 
other  occasion  when  he  was  obliged  to  appeal  to  Wal- 
ter Graham  for  assistance.  He  thought  of  reporting 
a  little  for  some  eastern  papers,  at  which  he  might  earn 
something  at  present ;  but,  of  course,  that  as  well  as 


THE   SECOND   CERTIFIED   CHECK  575 

other  plans  would  be  frustrated  if  he  was  to  be  pros- 
trated once  again,  a  charity  patient  in  a  hospital. 
Despair  was  beginning  to  fill  his  mind.  Kven  if  life 
itself  was  to  be  saved,  he  felt  it  might  be  neces- 
sary to  act  promptly,  not  later,  perhaps,  than  in 
the  morning.  "  Is  life  worth  saving  ?  "  he  thought,  as 
he  arose  and  walked  out  to  the  bar  room. 

His  mind  was  now  a  phonograph,  on  which  the  word 
despair  had  made  deep  her  indentures  ;  his  heart  a  soil 
in  which  the  plow  of  misery  had  struck  deep  her  fur- 
row. He  picked  up  a  glass  from  the  bar  and  poured 
about  three  tablespoonfuls  of  water  into  it  ;  drew  an 
ounce  bottle  of  laudanum  from  his  pocket,  dropped  ten 
drops  in  it  and  drank  it  down.  He  returned  to  a 
chair,  sat  for  ten  minutes,  then  told  the  bartender  he 
wished  to  retire.  His  pain  had  subsided  somewhat, 
and  he  felt  he  might  possibly  get  to  sleep.  Before  he 
was  fairly  undressed,  however,  and  in  bed,  the  pain 
had  returned,  too  intense  to  admit  of  sleep.  He  knew 
the  physician  had  allowed  him  to  take  five  drops  of 
laudanum  in  one  teaspoonful  of  water  on  previous  oc- 
casions when  he  was  highly  nervous  and  unable  to  get 
to  sleep ;  but  now  he  had  enlarged  the  dose  and  no 
results,  and  his  pain  too  severe  too  admit  of  much 
delay  or  theorizing.  He  lay  down  on  the  bed,  raised 
himself  up  after  a  few  minutes,  reached  over  to  the 
stand,  poured  ten  more  drops  of  laudanum  in  a  tea- 
spoon and  swallowed  them,  lay  back  again  upon  the 
bed  and  fell  into  a  short  nap,  but  woke  up  in  half  an 
hour,  with  the  pain — a  strong  mixture  of  pain  and 
pleasure.  Yes,  he  had  a  little  rest,  and  a  hopeful 
dream.  He  seemed,  a  moment,  happy  again  ;  still, 
he   felt   drowsy — a  pleasant   sensation  of  half-uncon- 


576  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

scioiisness  between  the  jerks  of  pain.  Just  ten  more 
drops  of  laudanum,  he  thought;  the  teaspoon  had 
dropped  from  his  hand  ;  the  bottle  was  still  clasped 
in  his  other  ;  he  raised  it  dreamingly  to  his  lips  ;  he 
thought  he  could  guage  ten  drops  on  his  tongue, 
and  then  lie  down  to  pleasant  dreams.  Yes,  the 
bottle  is  at  his  lips,  he  lets  his  head  drop  back  to 
take  it  in — to  take  in  ten  drops.  Yes,  ten  drops  ran 
into  his  mouth.  The  contents  of  the  bottle  are  in  his 
mouth.  He  realizes  for  a  moment  that  something 
might  be  wrong.  He  remembers  having  an  indi.s- 
tinct  thought  that  maybe  he  had  better  .spit  it  out ;  the 
thought  .seems  to  be  fleeing.  No,  he  feels  already  such 
a  pleasing  sensation.  Yes,  it  is  only  the  water  that  is 
in  my  throat.  I  am  going  to  have  such  a  good  night's 
sleep,  at  last  ;  such  lovely  dreams.  His  throat  opens  ; 
the  contents  of  the  bottle  are  in  his  stomach. 

Yes,  Tom,  what  a  sweet  night's  sleep  3'ou  are  going 
to  have  ;  your  limb  has  cea.sed  paining,  5'our  heart  has 
ceased  aching  ;  sleep  on,  poor  Tom,  for  eternity  of  sleep 
is  yours  ;  take  with  you  sweet  dreams  of  Sue  ;  as  you 
sleep  on  from  mortality  to  immortality. 

'Tis  eight  o'clock  a.  m.  "  The  gentleman  in  room  47 
has  not  come  down  yet."  'Tis  nine  o'clock,  "The 
gentleman  in  room  47  has  not  come  down  yet." 

"  Go  rouse  him,"  says  the  landlord;  "  see  what  is  the 
matter." 

Yes,  come  back,  little  Chinese  waiter,  report  the  door 
is  locked  ;  no  answer  made  to  3'our  knocking  and  call- 
ings ?  Yes,  go  up.  look  over  the  transom,  landlord,  see 
for  yourself ;  force  open  the  door. 

Ah  !  now  raise  the  alarm.  Consternation  !  Excite- 
ment !  have  your  way  ;  run  your  little  course.     Curi- 


THE  SECOND   CERTIFIED   CHECK.  577 

osity  and  suspicion,  feed  yourself  full  on  your  theories 
of  "  foul  play,"  of  "suicide,"  of  "  something  wrong." 

First  of  all,  search  his  body  and  his  clothes  for 
marks  of  identification.  Yes,  here  are  evidences  that 
his  name  is  Thomas  Svvave,  the  same  name  under  which 
he  has  registered.  Yes,  here  is  a  G.  A.  R.  button  on 
his  vest.  See  if  that  is  a  fraud.  Get  down  that 
National  Registry,  bar  tender,  as  you  are  an  old  soldier, 
and  see  if  you  can  find  his  record.  "  Yes,  here  is  the 
name,  and  a  very  good  record  he  has  ;  this  must  be  the 
man." 

Hunt  up  the  cabman  who  took  him  away  to  some 
place  last  night.  Yes,  spread  the  news  everj-where, 
let  it  reach  Sue  Lewis.     She  explains  all. 

Coroner,  hold  your  inquest  ! 

lycarned  physicians,  spin  your  fine-spun  theories  that 
it  is  a  suicide — clear,  and  unmistakable — laugh  at  one 
of  your  profession  who,  after  hearing  his  histor}- ,  says 
it  may  possibh'  not  have  been  a  deliberate  suicide 

The  07ie  thing  that  you  and  I  know  now  for  certain 
is  that  Tom  Swave  is  dead. 

Sue  L,ewis  was  no  ordinar}^  woman  ;  that  fact  5'ou 
may  have  perceived  or  j^ou  may  not.  What  answer 
she  was  preparing  to  give  to  Tom  Swave  you  and  I 
may  never  know.  Let  it  have  been  what  it  may,  it  is 
easy  to  conceive  that  such  news  as  this  bursting  on  her 
in  this  way  was  a  considerable  shock.  But  she  is  equal 
to  the  emergency.  At  twelve  o'clock  she  is  sufficiently 
calm  to  say^' '  Yes,  there  are  friends  who  will  claim 
the  body.  I  will  give  full  directions  in  a  short  time 
what  is  to  be  done  with  it." 

Walter  Graham  retired  the  evening  before,  as  has 
been  stated,  not  knowing  exactly  why  he  had  thought 
25 


578  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

of  Tom  Swave.  All  he  knows  now  is,  that  at  this  3:00 
p  M.  he  is  sitting  at  his  desk  in  the  Hall  of  the  House 
of  Representatives  at  Washington  while  the  town  clock 
in  Portland,  Oregon,  is  striking  twelve.  That  the  mes- 
senger boy  has  just  handed  him  a  despatch  ;  he  opens 
and  reads  : 

"  P0RT1.AND,  Oregon,  May  21,  1886. 
Dear  Walter : 

Tom  Swave  died  here  this  morning.  Think  he  is  without 
means.     Please  tell  me  what  to  have  done  with  the  body. 

Sue." 

How  many  times  he  read  it  over  to  be  sure  he  read  it 
rightly  must  be  left  to  conjecture.  Suffice  it  to  say, 
that  in  due  time  he  penned  the  following  message  in 

reply  : 

"Washington,  D.  C,  May  21,  1886. 
Sister  Sue : 

Have  the  body  embalmed  and  expressed  to  Shocktown.  I 
will  send  certified  check  for  all  expenses. 

Walter." 

Yes,  lay  him  away  in  the  little  gravej^ard  at  Shock- 
town  where  he  completes  the  family  circle. 

Lower  him  gently;  cover  him  up  tenderly;  be  all  his 
faults  forgiven,  for  he  had  kindness  of  heart. 

Write  for  his  epitaph — "One  for  whom  nature  had 
done  her  share.  One  who  never  did  quite  enough  for 
himself.  One  who  never  quite  obeyed  his  conscience. 
One  who  never  entirely  disregarded  it." 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

THE  LAST  REUNION. 

TT  IS  the  evening  of  the  30th  of  May,  1887,  and 
-*-  "  Memorial  Day  "  services  are  over  at  Shocktown. 
The  little  Shocktown  G.  A.  R.  Post,  which  consisted  of 
about  thirty  comrades,  gathered  in  from  a  radius  of 
five  miles,  marched  into  the  little  grave3^ard,  about 
half-past  four  o'clock,  p.  m.,  with  measured  step  to  the 
low  tap  of  drum,  while  old  men  and  women,  merry 
young  school  children,  and  strong  young  men  who  had 
polled  their  maiden  votes  (though  born  since  lyce's 
surrender)  stood  looking  reverently  on. 

They  laid  flowers  upon  the  seven  graves  marked 
with  miniature  flags  wathin  that  space,  which  included 
Mr.  Wagner's,  little  Chaplain  Hirsh's,  Frank  and 
Tom  Swave's. 

This  being  done,  the  Post  formed  in  hollow  square, 
around  the  two  last  named  graves,  lying  side  by  side, 
where  the  services  proper  were  held. 

The  comrades  uncovered,  the  Divine  blessing  was 
invoked  by  the  Post  Chaplain,  after  which  Com- 
mander Flora  announced  they  would  now  have  the 
pleasure  of  listening  to  an  address  by  Comrade  Walter 
Graham,  of  the  Sharwood  Post. 

Walter  stepped  upon  an  old  chair  that  had  been  pro- 
vided for  the  occasion  and  cast  his  eye  over  the  little 
group  of  comrades  that  stood  around  him  before  he 
trusted  himself  to  utter  a  word  ;  and  some  say  drew 


580  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

his  handkerchief  from  his  pocket  and  made  pretense  to 
wipe  the  perspiration  from  his  face.  I  shall  not  under- 
take to  give  you  his  words  or  describe  his  emotions,  as 
the  attempt  would  be  failure  in  either  case. 

You  must  be  content,  simply  with  what  you  saw. 
He  beheld  of  those  of  whom  you  have  heretofore  heard 
that  had  enlisted  at  different  times  around  about 
Shocktown,  only  five  —  Commander  Flora,  already 
mentioned,  was  of  course  one  who  still  seemed  quite 
a  well  preserved  man  of  sixty-five,  with  his  one  natural 
and  one  artificial  eye.  Little,  old  Dr.  Cain's  form  was 
rather  more  stooped  and  his  step  less  active  than  on 
the  morning  when  he  pronounced  Walter  Graham  ' '  as 
fine  a  baby  as  ever  sniffed  the  morning  air,"  but  he 
had  kept  pace  all  day  with  his  comrades,  and  stood, 
attentive,  to  listen  to  the  words  of  his  baby,  now  grown 
to  the  statesman  of  forty-four. 

Jake  Boyle,  Jack  Matson  and  Dave  Miller,  all  hale 
men,  still  in  the  prime  of  life,  completed  the  five;  the 
remainder  having  joined  the  ranks  of  the  Grand  Array 
above,  or  been  scattered  in  distant  parts. 

As  he  cast  his  eyes  downwards,  he  saw  the  mounds 
which  marked  the  spots  where  the  entire  Swave  family 
lay,  assimilating  with  their  native  dust ;  and  the  grass 
not  yet  grown  green  over  that  of  Tom,  only  a  year 
and  a  day  old.  He  raised  his  eyes  upwards  and  let 
them  rest  be^'ond  the  little  group  of  comrades,  where 
he  saw  standing  among  the  audience,  reclining  against 
the  fence,  his  mother  and  Prof.  Baker,  in  company 
with  Blanch,  his  sister  Mary,  and  her  children.  He 
saw  Mart.  Barnard  standing  in  a  group  a  little  to  his 
right,  the  thrifty  looking  merchant  that  he  was.  His 
gaze  rested  for  a  moment  up  the  litrie  valley  of  the 


THE   LAST   REUNION.  581 

Silver,  and  across  the  hill  side  where  he  saw  the  old 
stone  school  house,  now  turned  into  a  dwelling ;  and 
the  old  oak,  and  chestnut,  and  willow  trees,  standing 
farther  up  the  meadow,  by  the  side  of  the  old  dam. 

Why  should  I  be  expected  to  describe  either  Walter 
Graham's  words  or  emotions,  under  these  circum- 
stances ?  Through  his  mind  at  that  moment  a  thousand 
memories  thronged.  He  felt  both  glad  and  sorry 
that  he  was  there  to  speak  his  memorial  day  words, 
rather  than  at  some  of  the  larger  places,  whose 
invitations  he  had  declined  ;  he  did  speak  for  about 
twent}'  minutes  he  hardly  knew  how,  and  then  stopped 
amid  a  silence  that  was  sublime. 

The  little  Post  marched  back  to  the  village,  while  he 
lingered  for  a  few  minutes  to  speak  to  Professor  Baker 
and  other  old  friends.  He  wended  his  way  back  to 
Dave  Miller's  house,  where  he  and  Blanch  and  his 
mother  had  taken  dinner,  having  all  driven  over  from 
his  summer  residence  at  Mansdale. 

He  could  not  delay  for  supper  as  he  wished  to  be 
back  to  Mansdale  in  time  for  the  evening  services  in 
the  hall,  where  W.  P.  Bolton  was  to  be  the  orator  of 
the  occasion.  Mrs.  Bolton  and  her  mother  had  come 
on  from  Iowa,  on  a  visit  for  a  few  weeks,  and  Wendell 
was  meeting  them  there  now,  where  he  could  be  util- 
ized as  Memorial  Day  orator,  at  the  same  time. 

Professor  Baker,  who  was  now  living  a  retired  and 
lonely  widower's  life,  had  accepted  Walter's  invitation 
to  ride  back  with  him  and  Blanch  to  Mansdale  and  be 
their  guest  that  night,  mother  having  concluded  since 
she  was  at  Shocktown  to  stay  a  few  weeks  with  Mary. 

They  had  driven  over  from  Walter" s  summer  home  at 
Mansdale,  did  I  say  ?    Yes,  or  more  accurately  speak- 


582  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

ing,  Blanch's  ;  for  it  was  none  other  than  the  old  Mor- 
ton home,  where  Walter  had  first  met  her ;  the  home 
where  she  was  born  and  reared,  and  from  which  he  had 
taken  her  as  his  bride. 

Mr.  Morton  had  died  some  two  years  ago,  as  3'ou 
have  alread}'  learned.  His  estate,  though  not  running 
into  the  millions,  or  not  being  what  the  millionaires  of 
our  large  cities  might  call  great,  was  still  larger  than 
his  neighbors  had  supposed.  It  need  only  be  said,  that 
after  leaving  some  special  bequests  to  some  charitable 
institutions  and  a  few  deserving  friends,  the  residue 
of  his  estate  was  left  equall)'  to  Will,  and  Blanch  ;  that 
Will,  and  Blanch  divided,  amicably,  the  real  estate 
between  themselves,  drawing  lots  as  to  which  should 
take  the  old  homestead,  and  that  Blanch  was  the 
lucky  drawer. 

And  this  is  how  it  came  to  pass  that  Walter  and 
Blanch  were  driving  back  to  their  summer  residence  at 
Mansdale  that  evening,  taking  Professor  Baker  with 
them. 

Of  course,  j-ou  understand  that  Will,  had  built  a 
more  modern  and  pretentious  residence  at  the  far  end 
of  the  field,  to  which  point  the  borough  had  well  nigh 
grown,  where  he  and  Emma  and  her  mother  lived  ; 
and  that  Wendell  and  Ida  and  her  mother  were  their 
guests  on  this  occasion. 

Walter,  Blanch  and  the  Professor  arrived  at  the  old 
home  about  six  o'clock,  when — the  tea  being  over — 
they  sat  down  on  the  same  old  porch  for  a  pleasant 
hour  before  they  started  to  the  hall. 

The  nine  children  soon  gathered  around  at  either 
end  of  the  porch,  under  the  old  trees  in  the  yard,  or 
through  the  hall. 


THE   LAST   REUNION.  583 

What !  nine  children,  do  you  ask  ?  Why,  the  last 
time  we  heard  of  them  there  were  only  four. 

Yes,  nine  I  am  obliged  to  answer  for.  You  will 
remember  that  when  first  you  heard  of  them  it  was  in 
1877,  and  this  is  1887,  and  the  young  Grahams  have 
been  making  their  debut  into  the  family  at  inter- 
vals of  every  two  years  ever  since.  Yes,  this  is  an  old- 
fashioned  patriarchal  family,  reared  by  a  mother  who 
has  not  considered  it  much  trouble  to  raise  her  own 
children,  and  has  devoted  herself  to  them. 

True,  she  has  had  the  health,  the  time,  and  the  means 
to  do  it ;  and  more  should  be  expected  of  her  than  the 
poor  mother  who  has  none  of  these  advantages ;  but  to 
whose  lot  it  generally  falls  to  have  the  larger  yield  of 
offspring. 

Even  Blanch  Graham,  do  you  say,  must  have  aged 
considerably  under  this  responsibility  ?  Let  me  illustrate 
what  her  appearance  is,  by  relating  a  circumstance  that 
actually  happened  only  the  week  before.  It  was  this: 
She  and  Walter  were  walking  down  the  streets  of  Shar- 
wood  when  a  merchant,  standing  in  his  front  door,  saw 
them  coming,  and  said  to  a  friend  who  was  by  his  side, 
"Take  notice  |of  this  lady  who  is  coming  here  with 
this  gentleman,  and  when  they  pass  tell  me  how  old 
she  is." 

The  friend  having  been  put  upon  his  notice,  surve3^ed 
her  as  closely  as  he  politely  could,  and  when  they  had 
passed  replied  : 

"  Well,  she  is  thirty-six  years  old." 

"You  are  just  seven  years  too  young,"  replied  the 
merchant;  "she  will  be  forty-three  next  August,  and  is 
the  mother  of  nine  children." 


584  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

"What,"  exclaimed  his  friend,  "  yovi  must  be  mis- 
taken." 

"  No,  I  am  not  mistaken.  I  knew  her  since  she  was 
a  baby,  I  lived  within  half  a  square  of  where  she  was 
born  and  reared." 

Of  course,  it  is  not  necessary  to  tell  how  his  friend 
inquired  who  she  was,  and  all  about  her  ;  nor  is  it 
necessary  to  add  that,  notwithstanding  her  health, 
wealth  and  well  supplied  wants,  the  chief  and  main 
cause  of  her  well-preserved  face  and  form  was  domestic 
happiness. 

Neither  is  it  necessarj'  to  stop  to  describe  the  five 
additional  children,  .so  rudd}'  and  strong^,  that  have 
come  into  the  family,  further  than  to  say  their  names 
were  :  Abraham  Lincoln  Graham,  Mary  Graham,  Sue 
Graham,  Ida  Graham  and  Charles  Sumner  Graham, 
who  still  kicked  up  his  six-months' -old  heels  in  the 
cradle  ;  and  that  Flora,  the  oldest,  you  will  remember, 
moved  about  in  her  eighteenth  year,  with  very  much 
the  same  ease,  and  grace,  and  sweetness  of  mind  and 
manner  that  her  mother  had  when  Walter  first  met  her 
in  that  same  old  homestead. 

No,  there  is  only  time  to  say  now  that  they  were 
only  cleverly  seated  on  the  old  porch,  as  already  men- 
tioned, to  enjoy  the  fresh  air  and  listen  to  the  soft 
breezes,  gently  sighing  through  the  trees,  when  the}^ 
observed  a  stranger  at  the  gate,  open  it,  and  walk  up 
under  the  old  arbor  towards  them. 

Who  was  he?  He  was  a  man  apparently  about 
Walter  Graham's  own  age  ;  rather  shorter,  but  per- 
haps a  little  heavier  set;  with  clean-shaven  face  and 
well  clad  ;  with  firm  step  and  penetrating  gaze,  evi- 
dently a  man  of  business  ;  a  man  of  affairs. 


THE   tAST   REUNION.  585 

As  he  approached  the  company,  and  said,  "Good 
evening,"  he  responded  to  Walter's  "  Good  evening  " 
with  the  inquir}-  : 

"Do  I  have  the  pleasure  of  speaking  to  Walter 
Graham  ? ' ' 

Walter  replied,  "You  do,"  giving  him  at  the  same 
time  a  pretty  thorough  look  ;  but  before  he  spoke 
further  the  man  said  : 

"I  guess  5'ou  are  unable  to  tell  whom  you  are  ad- 
dressing." 

Walter  giving  him  a  hearty  grasp  of  the  hand  ex- 
claimed : 

"Oh,  no.  I  am  still  able  to  tell  when  I  am  address- 
ing little  Jake  Hoover." 

And  so  it  was;  j'ou  remember  Jake  do  j-ou  not  ?  You 
will  recall  that  he  was  one  of  the  beys  about  Shock- 
town,  about  the  age  of  Walter,  and  Tom,  the  black- 
smith's son,  if  you  remember  rightly  ;  he  enlisted  in 
the  same  company  with  Tom,  and  the  boys  who  left  in 
1862  ;  that  he  went  west  immediatel}-  after  the  war  ; 
and  that  Walter  had  seen  him  but  once  after  he  came 
home,  that  was  the  Sunda}^  evening  down  at  the  saw- 
mill, before  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar. 

Thus  it  was  Walter  was  exceedingh-  gratified  to 
meet  him,  saying,  among  other  things,  "Well,  Jake, 
how  fortunate  you  are  to  have  come  upon  us  at  this 
hour  ;  here  is  our  old  teacher,  Professor  Baker." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  was  just  going  to  ask,  is  not  this  Pro- 
fessor Baker  ?  ' ' 

All  these  congratulations  were  gone  through  with, 
of  course,  and  Walter  proceeded  to  present  him  to 
Blanch,  who  received  him  with  a  friendly  shake  of  the 


586  WALTER  GRAHAM,   STATESMAN. 

hand,  and  smile,  the  welcome  of  which  could  not  be 
mistaken,  as  she  said  : 

"  I  have  often  heard  of  '  Little  Jake  Hoover,'  and  I 
am    exceedingly   glad   now    to   meet   with    President 

Hoover — is  it  not  ? — of  the Railroad,  one 

of  the  great  lines  west  of  the  Missouri  ?  " 

Jake  smiled  modestly,  saying: 

"  Oh,  no,  not  quite  so  high  as  that.  Superintendent 
will  do  at  present." 

"  General  Superintendent,"  introposed  Walter,  "as 
I  will  have  to  help  you  out  with  your  extreme  modesty. ' ' 

"And  the  Presidency  in  the  future,"  continued 
Blanch. 

But  there  is  only  time  now  to  say,  that  of  course  they 
were  all  quite  happy  ;  that  the  hour  sped  away  in  no 
time  ;  that  it  was  a  sweet  little  reunion  of  Profes- 
sor Baker  and  two  of  his  old  pupils.  And  of  course 
they  all  delved  into  reminiscences  of  the  past.  Jake 
inquiring  about  all  the  old  friends  of  his  youth,  both 
old  and  young,  about  Shocktown,  saying  he  had  always 
taken  a  Sharwood  paper  since  he  had  been  west,  and 
though  he  had  kept  himself  comparatively  well  posted 
as  to  the  local  events  of  his  old  home,  there  was,  of 
course,  a  vast  amount  that  he  did  not  know. 

I  am  onl}'  expected  to  give  such  parts  of  the  conver- 
sation as  related  to  those  people  with  whose  careers  you 
are  not  alreadj-  acquainted. 

Jake  said  in  due  time: 

"  Well,  your  father  is  deceased,  is  he  not,  Walter? 
I  think  I  read  that  in  the  Mercmy .' ' 

"  Yes,  a  little  more  than  a  5'ear." 

' '  Was  he  feeble  in  his  latter  years  ?  He  was  not  very 
old  was  he  ?" 


THE  LAST   REUNION.  587 

"  Oh,  no,  he  was  as  hearty  a  man  up  to  the  day  of 
his  death  as  he  ever  had  been  ;  his  age  was  sixty- eight 
when  he  was  killed.  He  died  from  an  accident, 
you  will  remember.  A  heavy  piece  of  scantling  fell 
upon  him  and  killed  him  instantly." 

"  Oh,  5^es,  I  remember  now.  Well  your  mother  is 
living,  is  she  not?" 

"Yes;  and  as  active  as  ever.  She  and  Mary  are 
going  to  Oregon  this  summer  by  themselves." 

"And  she  lives  with  us,  too,"  said  Blanch,  "  except 
when  she  is  with  her  other  children." 

"At  all  events,  I  think  we  may  say  she  is  not  home- 
less," said  Professor  Baker. 

"  Pat.  McKnight  says  she  deserves  a  good  one.  He 
was  around  to  see  her  the  other  day,"  said  Blanch; 
' '  he  assured  me  she  was  the  best  woman  that  ever 
stood  up." 

"  What  has  become  of  Pat.  ?  "  said  Jake;  "  I  believe 
he  was  going  to  run  for  a  county  office  when  I  was 
home  before." 

"  Yes,  and  succeeded,  too,"  said  Walter;  "  he  is  now 
the  proprietor  of  a  green  grocery  and  oyster  saloon  in 
Sharwood." 

"  Saved  his  money,  did  he  ?  "  said  Jake. 

"  Yes,  Pat.  saved  his  money  and  takes  a  hand  occa- 
sionally in  ward  politics  ;  he  was  committee  on  applause 
the  time  I  was  first  nominated  for  Congress." 

"Well,  there  is  Miller's  family,  what  has  become  of 
them  ?  L,et  me  see,  Dave  married  your  sister  Mary, 
and  Joe  and  George  were  in  my  regiment.  Joe  was 
killed  at  Spottsylvania,  and  George  was  afterwards 
taken  prisoner. ' ' 

"Just    so,"   replied   Walter;   "their    father,    Elmer 


588  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

Miller,  and  his  wife  are  still  living  at  Shocktown, 
quite  active,  being  a  few  of  the  older  generation  that 
were  in  active  life  when  we  were  boys  about  there. 

"George,  30U  can  see,  by  stopping  or  going  by  Omaha 
on  your  way  back  to  the  west ;  he  is  one  of  the  leading 
physicians  in  the  city;  he  studied  medicine  after  he 
came  home  from  the  army;  he  started  to  college  not 
long  after  you  went  to  St.  Louis.  Their  sister  Beckie 
married  a  Samuel  Dobler,  a  well-to-do  farmer,  over  in 
Hamilton  county." 

"  And  Jack  Matson,  and  Bill  Boyle;  how  are  they 
coming  on  ?  "  was  Jake's  next  question. 

"Oh,  they  are  still  farming  away  there  on  their  old 
homesteads." 

"Jack  has  been  in  the  Legislature  two  terms;  he 
has  made  a  very  creditable  member  ;  no  scandal  or 
suspicion  ever  attached  to  his  record." 

Of  course,  Walter  omitted  to  tell  Jake  that  both  of 
them,  though  still  farming  away  on  their  old  home- 
stead farms,  had  found  their  lots  hard  enough  ;  that 
they  belonged  to  that  large  number  who  were  strug- 
gling under  the  heavy  mortgages  given  to  pay  for 
farms  at  inflation  prices,  and  that  they  both  would 
have  abandoned  the  fight  long  ago  but  for  the  fact 
that  they  owed  their  debts  to  Blanch  Graham  instead 
of  to  someone  else  ;  it  was  her  rule,  simply  to  take  the 
interest  from  them  the  years  they  were  able  to  pay  it, 
and  the  years  they  were  not  she  receipted  it  up  on  the 
mortgage  all  the  same. 

Jake,  in  ignorance  of  those  facts,  proceeded  to  ask, 
"  What  has  beconie-of  Long's  boj^s,  Wilson,  or  'Wilse,' 
as  we  used  to  call  him  ;  he  was  not  in  the   arni}^,    I 


I 


THE  LAST   REUNION.  589 

believe  ;  he  was  more  inclined  to  be  a  scholar,  was  he 
not  ?  ' ' 

"Yes,  Wilse  acquired  a  liberal  education,"  said 
Walter.  ' '  He  has  a  professorship  in  the  Highbury 
Normal  School." 

"  He  is  principal  of  it,"  interposed  Professor  Baker. 

"Right,  right,"  continued  Walter,  "he  was  made 
principal  last  fall." 

"  Sam  adhered  to  his  first  love — butchering  and  deal- 
ing in  cattle.  If  you  go  over  to  the  Harsimus  stock 
yard,  in  Jersc}^  City,  when  you  are  in  New  York,  j^ou 
will  find  him  there — the  ideal  cattle  dealer  and  com- 
mission merchant ;  and  of  as  fine  a  physique  as  he  ever 
was.  He  weighs  about  two  hundred  and  twent}' 
pounds,  and  well  proportioned." 

' '  Looks  as  though  he  would  still  be  able  to  suppress 
Slybarr,  does  he  ?  "  said  Professor  Baker,  with  a  bland 
smile. 

"I  should  think  so,"  replied  Walter,  returning  the 
smile,  and  continuing,  "Your  father  holds  his  own 
well,  Jake,  for  a  man  of  his  years." 

"  Yes,  he  does,"  replied  Jake  ;  "he  shod  two  horses, 
all  'round,  and  hooped  two  carriage  wheels,  one  day 
last  week." 

"  Yes,  I  saw  that  iu  the  paper,"  said  Blanch. 

"Well,  it  seems,  looking  over  the  whole  field,"  said 
Jake,  "  that  the  little  old  public  school  at  Shocktown, 
and  the  Professor's  academ}',  turned  out  a  pretty  good 
crop  of  boys.  I  suppose  you  are  the  only  one  that 
may  be  said  to  have  reached  great  distinction  ;  but 
then,  on  the  other  hand,  not  one  of  them  ever  went  to 
jail,  did  they?  " 

"  Whj^  Jake!  my  life  has  not  been  anything  like  the 


590  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

success  and  example  that  j'ours  has  been,  when  we  con- 
sider the  advantages  I  have  had,  compared  with  yours." 

"  I  appeal  to  our  old  teacher,  right  now,  if  I  am  not 
correct,"  said  Walter. 

"Jacob's  career  has  certainly  been  very  praise- 
worthy," replied  Professor  Baker. 

"Well,  whatever  there  is  in  it,"  said  Jake,  "is 
simply  the  outcome  of  hard  work.  I  lay  no  claim  to 
genius.  In  fact,  I  should  never  have  done  anything 
on  the  railroad  if  it  had  not  been  for  my  Uncle  Sam. 
Blair  ;  and  then,  after  I  did  become  night  despatcher 
of  freight,  I  had  to  do  two  men's  work  for  five  years — 
there  were  so  many  worthless  fellows  that  could  never 
be  depended  upon." 

"Very  true,"  exclaimed  Walter  and  the  Professor, 
simultaneously.  "  I  suppose  there  are  none  of  those 
worthless  fellows  who  are  superintendents  now."   ' 

"No,  I  don't  know  that  any  of  them  are,"  replied 
Jake,  smiling.  "  But,  returning  to  our  old  Shocktown 
schoolmates — whatever  became  of  the  Bowers'  ?" 

"Well,  there  is  the  rub,"  said  Walter.  "You 
remarked  before  that  you  gues.sed  not  any  of  the 
Shocktown  scholars  ever  went  to  jail.  I  am  not  cer- 
tain Vjut  what  .some  of  them  should  have  been  there  ; 
and  it  bothered  High.  Bowers  at  one  time  extremely  to 
keep  out  of  it,"  he  continued  in  a  lower  tone. 

"Is  that  true?  How?" 

"  Oh,  it  would  be  a  long  story  ;  enough  to  sa}^  that 
he  even  applied  to  me  at  one  stage  of  his  troubles.  I 
advised  him  to  go  to  another  attorney ;  but,  perhaps, 
I  should  say  nothing  about  it.  as  the  man  is  in  his 
grave." 

"  How  long  has  he  been  dead  ?  " 


THE  LAST  REUNION.  591 

"Some  five  j-ears  or  more,  I  should  sa3^" 

' '  What  has  become  of  Ben  ?  ' ' 

"  Ben.  and  his  mother  moved  to  Sharwood  after  the 
'Squire's  death  ;  the  'Squire's  estate  was  not  so  large 
as  had  been  estimated,  and  Ben.  worked  about  at  dif- 
ferent things,  at  times,  making  no  very  great  success 
out  of  any  of  them.  I  believe  he  is  keeping  a  small 
grocery  store  now. ' ' 

■ '  What  ever  became  of  Maggie  Bernard, ' '  was  Jake's 
next  inquir}'. 

"  Not  too  loud,"  said  Blanch,  softly  ;  "  Lizzie  is  just 
around  the  corner  with  the  children,"  and  motioning 
to  Walter,  who  did  repl}^  softly  to  Jake : 

"  Oh,  that  is  rather  a  long  story  too  ;  and  a  painful 
one  besides.     I  will  give  it  to  you  at  another  time." 

"Excuse  me,"  said  Jake  apologetically. 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  said  both  Blanch  and  Walter,  "  that 
is  all  right,  only  we  don't  want  the  children  to  hear." 

"  The  rest  of  the  Bernard  family  are  well  I  believe," 
continued  Walter.  "Uncle  Joseph  is  rather  feeble,  but 
he  is  really  getting  to  be  among  the  old  people. 
Aunt  Harriet  has  been  dead  some  four  j^ears ; 
the  two  older  girls  are  both  married,  one  living 
in  Philadelphia,  the  other  in  Shocktown,  her  husband 
being  a  member  of  the  firm  of  which  Mart,  is  now  the 
leading  member  ;  he  and  his  wife  live  in  the  old  home, 
and  his  father  with  them." 

"  What  became  of  that  little  darkey,  Ben  Smith,  that 
used  to  come  to  the  old  school  ? ' ' 

"  He  is  living  in  Sharwood,  where  he  works  the  most 
of  his  time  for  me,  or,  to  give  the  answer  more  fullj^ 
for  Walter  ;  I  may  say  that  he  lives  in  a  little,  neat  one 
and  a  half  story  brick  house,  at  the  corner  of  the  alley, 


592  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

about  three  fourths  of  a  square  from  Walter's  own 
house  ;  that  he  is  employed  in  taking  care  of  Walter's 
horse,  keeping  his  yard  and  garden  in  order,  and  wait- 
ing on  the  women  generally;  that  his  children  go  around 
the  corner  to  the  same  public  school  that  Walter's  own 
children  do  ;  that  he  marches  around  with  the  G.  A.  R. 
on  most  occasions  with  his  uniform;  or,  in  the  language 
of  an  Irishman,  who  lives  near  by,  'A  bigger  man 
than  Graham  himself."  ' 

And  now  is  just  as  good  a  time  as  any  to  say  that 
Walter  generally  has  one  stereotj-ped  answer  that  he 
gives  to  all  importunates  to  withdraw  his  children 
from  the  public  schools  and  send  them  to  some  of  the 
various  .select  institutions  for  small  children,  as  follows: 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  great  pity  some  children  are  too  good  to 
go  to  the  pul)lic  schools.  I  would  not  exchange  the 
part  of  my  experience  which  I  received  there  for  all 
the  other  schools  I  ever  saw.  I  had  to  attend  them 
when  I  was  young,  and  my  children  may  do  the  same." 

Blanch  would  generally  smile  and  say,  "Well,  I  do 
think  our  public  schools  are  the  best ;  I  can't  see  that 
these  children  who  attend  the  private  schools  are  learn- 
ing much." 

But  the  hour  has  come  when  they  must  start  for  the 
hall. 

While  Blanch  and  the  children  are  getting  ready, 
the  Professor  and  Jake  walk  on.  They  take  a  little 
stroll  around  the  borough  before  going  to  the  lecture, 
during  which  time  the  Professor  related  to  Jake  the 
history  of  Maggie  Bernard,  substantially,  as  follows  : 

"Sometime  about  the  year  1870  she  finally  married 
High.  Bowers,  greatly  against  the  protests  of  her 
parents,  as  there  w^ere,  even  at  that  time,  some  bad 


THK    LAST   REUNION.  593 

stories  about  High.  The  marriage  took  place,  how- 
ever. He  took  her  out  to  Miuneapolis,  under  pretext 
of  going  into  business,  where  he  left  her  in  six  weeks, 
destitute  and  triendless. 

"  Maggie,  who  was  perhaps  a  little  self-willed,  as  well 
as  proud,  refused  to  ask  the  charity  or  forgiveness  of  her 
friends,  even  concealing  for  some  time  the  fact  of 
High.'s  desertion,  from  her  parents,  and  secured  employ- 
ment as  a  waiting  maid  at  the  hotel  when  he  had  left. 

"  In  due  time  she  became  the  mother  of  a  son,  which 
circumstance  added  greatly  to' the  perplexities  of  her 
situation.  Completely  crushed  and  miserable,  as  she 
then  was,  she  of  course  fell  a  victim  to  the  first  per- 
son who  extended  her  a  kindness  or  spoke  to  her  a 
sympathetic  word.  That  person,  it  appears,  was  the 
bartender  at  the  hotel,  a  man  of  no  great  character,  as 
we  mays  uppose  ;  and  yet  with  perhaps  more  innate 
manhood  about  him  than  High.  Bowers. 

"  Six  months  later  she  and  the  bartender  were  living 
together  as  man  and  wife.  Some  .say  they  never 
procured  a  marriage  certificate,  other  reports  say  they 
did.  At  all  events,  these  facts  became  known  about 
Shocktown,  and,  strange  to  say,  her  own  parents  then 
ignored  her ;  and  her  own  sex  were,  as  a  rule,  the 
most  merciless  in  their  comments. 

"High.,  who  had  gone  to  Wisconsin,  next  learned 
of  these  facts,  and  applied  for  a  divorce  in  the  courts 
of  Wisconsin  ;  and,  ofcour.se,  soon  procured  it. 

"  The  next  step  in  the  scene  was  that  High,  married 
another  woman  in  that  state,  and  lived  with  her  about 
nine  months,  when  his  father  died.  This  left  consid- 
erable real  estate  in  this  state  descending  to  High, 
and  his    brother  Ben.,  which   High,  and    his  second 


594  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

wife,  Barbara,  conveyed  by  deed  to  his  brother  about 
three  years  later.  Meanwhile,  Maggie's  bartender 
husband  had  died,  leaving  her  a  little  girl  about  one 
year  old.  It  was  about  this  stage  of  the  case  that 
Blanch,  who  you  know  is  a  first  cousin  of  Maggie's, 
took  it  upon  herself  to  go  to  Minneapolis,  hunt  Mag- 
gie up  and  proffer  kindness  and  assistance,  and  full 
forgiveness,  if  she  would  apply  for  a  divorce  from  High. , 
as  there  were  doubts  about  the  legality  of  his  divorce 
from  her,  and  come  back  and  live  a  pure  life. 

"  Maggie  was,  as  may  be  expected,  completely  over- 
whelmed with  Blanch's  kindness ;  broke  down  com- 
pletely, and  told  her  that  she  had  barely  come  in  time 
to  rescue  her  from  a  life  of  shame  and  crime  ;  adding, 
that  what  she  most  shrank  from  was  the  thought  of 
going  back  to  confront  her  parents  while  they  still 
maintained  their  present  feelings  towards  her. 

"  Blanch  told  her  that  they  could  even  relieve  her  of 
that  unpleasantness,  the  force  of  which  she  recognized. 
That  Walter  could  easily  make  arrangements  with  some 
of  his  numerous  friends  in  some  distant  town,  where 
she  could  procure  some  honorable  employment  and  be 
removed  entirely  from  her  present  associations  and  temp- 
tations. 

"  In  fact,  the  idea  occurred  to  her,  that  her  Cousin 
Ida  Bolton,  in  Iowa,  would  take  an  interest  in  her  and 
act  the  good  Samaritan. 

"  In  short,  that  was  what  came  of  it.  She  and  the 
children  were  sent  to  Iowa,  where  the  Boltons  procured 
for  her  a  clerkship  in  a  store,  and  kept  a  friendly  super- 
vision over  her. 

"  Then,  in  course  of  time,  as  is  usual  in  such  ca.ses, 
her  parents  relented  ;  they  invited  Maggie  home  ;  she 


THE   I.AST   REUNION.  595 

came  to  see  them  ;  staid  with  her  mother  through  her 
sickness  and  death. 

"Then,  Maggie,  who  seemed  to  be  a  sweeter  and 
more  humiHated  woman  than  I  had  ever  seen  her,  took 
a  notion  to  be  self-sustaining  ;  so  she  went  and  had 
herself  examined  under  the  civil  service  rules  for  a 
clerkship  in  one  of  the  departments  at  Washington  ; 
and  with  the  high  rating  with  which  she  passed  the 
examination,  and  with  Walter's  assistance,  she  soon 
secured  a  position.  And  that  is  where  she  now  is. 
Her  children  are  at  their  grandfather's  and  he  has 
really  become  very  much  attached  to  them.  That 
little  girl  they  called  Lizzie,  there  on  the  porch,  is  her 
daughter  by  her  bar-tender  husband  ;  and  Maggie,  her- 
self, I  believe  now  is  an  humble  and  reformed  woman." 

Jake  listened  attentively  all  through  the  Profes- 
sor's story,  and  then  remarked,  "Well!  w'ell!  is  that 
Maggie  Bernard's  history  ?  " 

' '  Yes, ' '  said  the  Professor,  ' '  that  is  about  the  sub- 
stance of  her  history  ;  with  the  exception  of  the  legal 
side  to  it,  which  is  sometimes  amusing,  as  affording  an 
illustration  of  how,  through  all  these  tribulations  and 
trials,  justice  so  frequently  keeps  a  secret  w^atch  upon 
her  own,  and  gets  to  the  proper  place  in  some  mysteri- 
ous way. 

"At  that  stage  of  the  case,  when  Maggie  went  to 
the  Boltons,  in  Iowa,  she  did  not  procure  a  divorce  on 
her  own  motion,  as  Blanch  had  persuaded  her  to  do, 
for  although  she  had  actually  applied  for  it,  while  the 
proceedings  were  pending,  the  word  come  of  High's 
death  ;  then  her  attorney  just  stopped  and  told  her  to 
claim  her  right  of  dower  in  High's  real  estate  here  as 
his  lawful  widow.     Maggie  was  averse  to  doing  this. 


590  WALTER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

but  her  lawyer  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  go  on 

"So  the  matter  was  submitted  to  Walter,  who,  after 
ascertaining  that  High.'s  second  wife  was  dead,  and 
that  no  innocent  victim  would  suffer  b}'  the  contest, 
(the  land  here,  you  will  remember,  he  had  sold  to  Ben) 
and  if  his  title  was  affected  by  the  matter,  Walter 
considered  that  it  would  only  be  justice  getting  to 
the  right  place  ;  and  said  if  the  lawyers  who  have  it  in 
charge  wish  to  make  a  test  case  of  it,  let  them  fight  it 
to  the  end.  So,  accordingly,  proceedings  were  com- 
menced here  for  her  interest  in  the  real  estate  that  Ben. 
had  thus  purchased  from  High.,  claiming  that  Maggie 
was  his  lawful  widow  at  the  time  of  his  death." 

"  Well,  but  how  could  that  be  ?  "  said  Jake;  "  High, 
had  a  legal  divorce,  had  he  not,  from  her?" 

"  That  was  one  of  the  points  in  the  case,"  continued 
the  Professor.  "  They  rested  on  that  and  then  upon  the 
fact  that  Maggie's  own  conduct  was  a  forfeiture  of  all 
her  marital  rights  ;  so  to  state  the  matter  as  well  a-s  I 
understand  it,  (though  Walter  can  explain  it  much 
better,)  it  was  carried  through  all  the  successive  steps 
of  litigation,  up  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  this  vState, 
where  it  was  finally  decided  in  Maggie's  favor. 

"  True,  the  case  was  a  leading  one.  as  the  lawyers 
term  it,  presenting  many  new  and  novel  features  ;  but 
the  opinion  of  the  Supreme  Judge  was,  first,  that 
High.'s  divorce  in  Wiscon.sin  had  no  binding  effect  on 
her,  as  she  had  never  followed  him  there  as  his  wife, 
High,  having  deserted  her  ;  and  in  reference  to  her 
own  culpable  conduct,  the  Judge  said  : 

"'He  left  her,  according  to  the  evidence,  clandes- 
tinely, and  on  the  false  pretense  that  he  was  going  to 
meet  a  friend  on  a  business  engagement ;  he  never  even 


THK   I.AST  REUNION.  597 

requested  her  to  go  with  him  to  Wisconsin.  His  own 
crime  of  unfaithfulness  to  his  marriage  vows  exposed 
her  to  temptation.  He  left  her  without  means,  in  a 
strange  city,  to  the  cold  mercies  of  the  world  ;  that  she 
fell  was  no  more  her  fault  than  his.  And  thus  it 
was  that  Maggie  got  a  dower  interest  of  some  ^3,000  in 
High.'s  estate.'  " 

And  this  ends  the  last  circumstance  founded  on 
actual  fact  that  I  will  weave  into  this  book. 

"  Well,  it  really  is  a  remarkable  case,  is  it  not? "  said 
Jake,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

' '  It  reall}^  is, ' '  replied  the  Professor. 

They  proceeded  a  few  rods  in  silence,  when  Jake 
said,  "I'll  venture  that  many  were  the  times  she 
regretted  that  she  ever  turned  her  lips  up  so  contemp- 
tuously at  Walt.  Graham  on  that  old  school  ground." 

The  Professor  smiled,  and  they  both  passed  into  the 
hall,  as  they  were  already  a  little  late. 

After  the  exercises  were  over  the  Professor  and 
Jake,  Wendell  and  Ida,  Will,  and  Emma,  all  walked 
back  with  Walter  and  Blanch  and  the  children  to  the 
old  home,  where  another  hour  was  spent  in  such  social 
blisi  as  needs  no  description.  You  know  all  these 
parties  now  sufficiently  well,  the  relations  they  bear 
to  each  other,  the  congeniality  of  their  spirits,  to  per- 
ceive what  that  hour  was  like  better  than  pen  can  tell. 

I  must,  however,  give  you  a  little  of  the  conversation 
-which  took  place  between  Jake  and  the  Professor,  after 
they  retired  to  the  large  front  room  where  they  each 
had  a  bed  to  himself  looking  out  at  the  open  window. 

"I  wonder,"  said  Jake  "if  it  will  ever  happen  that 
Walter  Graham  will  be  President  of  the  United  States  ?" 

"That  question,"   replied   the  Professor,   "is  very 


598  WAI^TER   GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

problematic,  and  attended  with  a  great  many  contingen- 
cies ;  but  it  must  be  said  it  is  not  beyond  the  bounds  of 
possibility. 

"  He  stands  to-day,  in  many  respects,  upon  that  plane 
from  which  Presidents  are  taken  ;  his  high  standing  as 
a  member  of  the  popular  branch  of  Congress,  at  least 
that  more  than  average  standing  which  he  occupies  in 
it,  acquired  both  by  his  ability  and  continvious  ser- 
vices ;  the  general  favor  with  which  his  party  has 
received  his  last  argument  on  the  question  of  protec- 
tion!; his  age,  his  personal  popularity,  are  all  circum- 
stances which  might  some  daj^  drift  him  into  that  chan- 
nel which  flows  into  the  White  House. 

"But,  on  the  other  hand,  sometimes  I  think  I  see 
things  which  are  in  the  way  ;  chief  among  them  may 
be  Walter's  own  cast  of  mind. 

"It  may  be,  after  all,  he  is  not  quite  politic  enough;  the 
tendency  to  individual  freedom  of  opinion  may  increase 
on  him  as  he  ages.  I  doubt  if  even  now  he  would 
make  the  exertion  to  be  nominated  for  Congress  that 
he  did  the  first  time  he  was  nominated.  Not,  under- 
stand me,  that  I  think  the  man  who  becomes  entirely 
the  politician  is  likely  to  become  President;  but"  that 
even  statesmen  must  be  prudent  at  times,  is  the  idea,  if 
they  expect  to  reach  that  eminence. 

"There  is  an  old  saying  that  the  ideas  and  habits  that 
one  acquires  when  he  is  a  child  are  very  apt  to  be  the 
ones  which  will  reappear  in  him  some  time,  no  differ- 
ence how  much  he  may  have  been  changed. 

' '  Walter  contracted  an  independence  of  thought  in 
his  childhood,  both  from  his  parents  and  his  tutelage 
under  our  old  friend,  John  Williamson,  which,  while 
it   is  all   very   creditable  to    him,    and    calculated    to 


THE    LAST    REUNION.  599 

make  him  a  very  good  man,  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  it  is  calculated  to  make  presidents.  In  fact,  it 
was  onl}^  the  other  day  I  heard  a  practical  politician 
talking  of  this  very  question,  who  said,  "  Oh,  Graham 
is  all  right,  and  sticks  to  his  party  and  all  that, 
but  he's  too  full  of  these  visionary  theories ;  he's 
always  reading  such  books  as  Adam  Smith's  "  Wealth 
of  Nations,"  and  who's  that  other  crank? — Henry 
George's  "  Progress  and  Poverty."  The  North  Ameri- 
can Revieiv  is  his  favorite  magazine  ;  or,  if  he  stays 
over  Sunday  in  New  York,  he  goes  to  hear  Beecher,  or 
Collyer,  or  Talmage,  preach.  Such  things  are  all  well 
enough  in  their  wa\',  and  it  is  all  right  for  people  to 
investigate  whatever  they  wish,  but  if  a  man  is  going 
to  be  a  practical  politician  he  must  not  let  his  head 
get  too  full  of  such  stuff." 

"  Now,  I  suppose  that  man  was  a  fair  representative 
of  a  very  large  element  that  has  to  be  consulted  when 
we  go  to  make  a  president."  Jake  listened  attentively 
to  the  professor's  disquisition,  and  after  a  slight  pause 
replied  : 

"Yes,  these  things  are  a  very  great  lottery;  but,  my, 
wouldn't  Mrs.  Graham  make  a  model  L,ady  of  the 
White  House  !" 

"  Beyond  question  she  would,"  replied  the  Professor. 
"  It  is  almost  another  element  of  strength  in  his  case." 

And  now,  my  friends,  as  I  draw  this  narrative  to  a 
close,  in  this  year  of  grace,  one  thousand  eight  hun- 
dred and  ninety-one,  all  the  rest  must  be  left  to  conjec- 
ture. 

Even  if  I  should  be  tempted  to  draw  closer  to  the 
hour,  prudence  would  forbid  it. 

"Act  in  the  I^iving   Present  "  may   be  a  very  good 


600  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

maxim  for  some  people  engaged  in  the  material  things 
of  this  world,  but  I  incline  to  the  opinion  that  there 
are  two  classes  of  men  and  women  who  should  fight  a 
little  shy  of  it,  namely,  the  historian  and  the  romancer. 
Not  that  either  of  them  should  hesitate  through  fear, 
but  through  respect  for  the  truth — a  quality  best  recog- 
nized in  history  through  the  medium  of  a  little  time. 

He  who  lays  pen  to  paper  simultaneously  with  the 
event,  is  always  in  danger  of  being  unconsciously  influ- 
enced by  the  feelings  which  surround  him. 

And  now,  as  we  leave  Walter  Graham  retiring,  this 
lovely  May  evening  of  1887,  in  the  old  Mansdale  man- 
sion, surrounded  by  friends  and  family,  with  Blanch 
resting  on  his  shoulder,  as  they  look  out  on  the  beau- 
tiful night,  reclining  on  the  satue  old  window  sill  from 
which  she  had  prayed  for  Harry  and  dreamed  of  Wal- 
ter, twenty-three  3-ears  before  ;  as  they  gaze  upon  the 
same  sk\^  and  hear  the  low  rustling  of  the  leaves  on 
the  same  old  trees,  at  the  close  of  this  day  on  which 
the  nation's  funeral  services  have  just  been  held  over 
half  a  million  graves,  their  ears  still  ringing  with  the 
patriotic  requiems  just  sung  to  the  memor}-  of  the 
honored  dead  ;  with  hearts  full  of  gratitude  and 
thoughts  of  tenderness  to  all  mankind  ;  as  they  look 
out  upon  the  same  great  universe  of  love,  while  the 
same  stars  and  the  never- failing  dew  drops  keep  their 
eternal  vigil  over  all,  he  is  presented  for  your  contem- 
plation. 

In  the  vision  of  your  imagination  3'ou  may  finish 
his  course  as  you  please. 

You  may  foresee  that  his  trip  to  Europe  this  j'ear  has 
been  postponed  ;  that  later  in  the  summer  he  will  take 
another   trip  across  the    continent,  returning   in   the 


THE   LAST   REUNION.  601 

pleasant  fall  by  the  southern  route.  He  may  stop  on 
that  sojourn  to  gaze  once  more  on  the  field  of  Shiloh. 
or  to  see  how  the  ramparts  at  Vicksburg  have  with- 
stood the  hand  of  time  ;  he  may  lead  Blanch  over  the 
field  of  the  Wilderness,  in  search  of  the  ravine  where 
Harry  fell,  or  in  quest  of  that  spot  at  Cold  Har- 
bor which  her  feet  have  longed  to  touch.  But  the 
ground  all  looks  so  different  now;  he  cannot  come 
within  three  hundred  yards  of  locating  either  place. 
Or,  you  may  think  it  sufficiently  clever  that  he  will  be 
a  delegate  in  the  Chicago  convention  of  1888,  which 
nominated  Harrison  ;  or,  in  your  mind's  eye,  you  may 
see  the  delegates  of  his  own  state  at  the  convention 
which  assembles  in  Omaha  in  the  year  1900,  bearing 
upon  their  banners  the  inscription,  "  For  President, 
Walter  Graham."  But  the  convention  adjourns,  and 
the  delegates  return  home  with  another  name  where 
his  had  been  written. 

The  tendency  of  his  mind  to  advance  a  little  faster 
than  his  organization  ma}'  have  been  the  cause  of  the 
failure,  or  some  one  of  the  other  many  causes  which 
turn  the  beam  at  the  critical  moment ;  though  his  hon- 
esty has  never  been  questioned,  and  his  ability  is  admit- 
ted, you  may  have  to  concede  that  he  has  read  "  Look 
ing  Backward"  with  the  care  of  a  student,  and  that  he 
has  introduced  "Edward  Bellamy"  to  a  public  audience. 
That,  while  he  may  say  with  perfect  truth  he  regards 
the  most  of  his  theories  as  unpractical,  he  is  known  too 
well  to  belong  to  that  school  which  holds  there  is  no 
subject  too  sacred,  for  investigation. 

Though  he  is  not*  yet  ready  to  proclaim  as  a 
public  principle  that  the  government  should  operate 
the  railroads  and  telegraphs,  the  public  perceive  that 


602  WALTER    GRAHAM,    STATESMAN. 

his  face  is  turned  in  that  direction.  In  short,  you 
ma}'  see  him  go  down  to  his  grave  without  becom- 
ing President,  simply  because  the  National  party  is  not 
3'et  fully  ripe. 

You  may  .see  Blanch  looking  caraplacently  on 
through  these  years,  watching  close!}-  the  gradual 
transition  of  thought  in  her  husband's  mind,  proud  to 
believe  that  with  the  passing  time  she  sees  the  politi- 
cian sinking  and  the  statesman  rising.  Notwithstand- 
ing even  .she  may  have  experienced  the  day  when  the 
words  "lady  of  the  White  house"  lingered  for  a 
moment  on  her  mind,  as  .she  took  the  hand  of  the 
beautiful  and  accomplished  young  wife  of  President 
Cleveland,  or  looked  into  the  motherly  face  of  Mrs. 
Harrison,  there  never  was  a  moment  when  she  would 
have,  said,  "Conscience,  be  still,  that  I  may  have  that 
title." 

High  as  she  would  have  esteemed  the  honor,  that 
her  children  and  future  generations  might  read  upon 
the  stone  that  marks  her  husband's  grave,  "  President 
of  the  United  States," — she  is  infinitely  prouder  to  feel 
that  it  could  truthfully  bear  the  inscription,  "  Walter 
Graham ,  Statesman. ' ' 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
1115 


